


His Majesty's Consort

by TheClassics4



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, alcohol abuse in later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-25 09:46:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 59,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheClassics4/pseuds/TheClassics4
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A poor farmer took a loan from the king. He has nothing else to pay, except his beautiful daughter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It had only been two days since the kings men had brought her father the royal summon. They had sat together in front of the fireplace and it was the first time she had ever seen her father cry.

The money they had planned to use for planting had been needed for her mother. It had been in vain; it had not saved her. Since they had nothing to plant, they were on the brink of starvation and next spring they would have nothing to sell to buy new seeds. It was a cycle that would not end.

Or perhaps it would. The king was calling in his debt and it would leave her father at death’s door. He would push her to marry before he died and she would have to.

She was fortunate that Gaston arrived that morning when her father called for him. Now, as destitute as she was, she was worried he would not have her. But he’d already received her dowry. It seemed to be enough for him stay.

Her sister, Emma, had arrived only moments after, and almost immediately they were banished to the other room.

It was an hour before the door opened and her father revealed this plan to her.

Emma had seemed just as shocked and when she tried to protest, her father sharply silenced her. He’d only left not five minutes ago. The time since was spent in silence, changing into the nicest dress she owned.

What they were asking of her was unimaginable.

The king?

He would never accept her. She was but a peasant and he only had women of status… with experience.

Belle had neither.

If she was lucky, the king would only turn her away. But, if he was in a vengeful mood, she could be killed.

To resort to this, her father must have thought when she married Gaston she would forget him completely. She wouldn’t. She knew she wouldn’t.

Once she was wed, she would find a way to pay back her father’s debt. Gaston was not rich, but he had enough money to live comfortably. If they lived modestly for a few years they could pay the king.

“Are you alright?” Emma’s voice brought her out of her thoughts.

“How can they ask this of me?”

“You know that they wouldn’t, but there is no other way.”

“But what if it doesn’t work?” Belle asked on the verge of tears, “What if he rejects me? What if he takes what he wants then doesn’t—”

“That won’t happen. He’s a good king,” Emma took her hand. “And Belle, you are beautiful. He won’t reject you.”

Her father was moving around outside the door again. He was getting anxious to get going, but Belle needed this time with her sister. They no longer had a mother and matters of this nature fell to Emma.

“Just don’t be surprised if it hurts a little.”

“It’s going to hurt?”

Emma squeezed her hand at the look of concern on Belle’s face, “Only a little. And not very long.”

There was a knock on the door. Belle expected their father to look in, but the face of Belle’s fiancé peered around the door.

“Are you ready?”

With a final, reassuring squeeze from her sister, Belle nodded. Really, she was not ready. She wanted to ask Emma more, but Gaston didn’t close the door. So she stood and followed him out of the room.

Her father didn’t look at her as he led her out of their small cottage. The walk to the castle was long. It would take more than a day to reach the city and then a few more miles to the castle itself.

Belle did not try to talk to her father. She was angry at him—angry for making her do this, angry for making her feel this way.

She was nervous. It was not a pleasant nervous feeling that one gets at the thought of some kind of exciting adventure, but a tight knot that made it hard to walk or breathe. It would not be the feeling she would have gotten on her wedding day as night approached. It was different knowing the king would know her before her husband.

She’d never even seen King William—no one in her small village had ever seen him. They only spoke of his hunger for women, his history as a war hero before he’d been injured.

Nothing was ever said of his looks. The fact that he had women meant nothing. He was king. The king had as many women as he wanted. Whether he was ugly or not was of no matter. Hopefully, he would be somewhat attractive.

His wife, Eleanor, had died many years ago, before Belle was born. Her mother had spoken of the queen only a few times. From what she said, Belle guessed the queen was a good woman. She had left the king a single heir and the two hadn’t been seen together after the birth.

It was no secret to anyone that the two monarchs had not been faithful to each other after the prince was born, but it was consensual that they should take lovers.

The king had taken three different women while the queen took a single man from her home-country. Her mother had talked of the heartbreak that had been at the royal wedding. The queen was in love with someone else on her wedding day.

It made Belle grateful she had Gaston and no one else in her life.

Her father walked next to her all the way through the city. She guessed he did it to make sure that she did, in fact, go through with this. The dress she’d worn was her mother’s finest, and it was now ruined from the walk through the muddy path.

It was degrading; it was sinful. She would be seen only as the king’s mistress. She would be shunned by the parish. Would any priest marry her and Gaston?

Her father should have thought of this.

Still, he forced her to proceed. It was either keep her pride or let her family die hungry in the streets. Had she been a man and able to decide for herself, she would have never sold herself like this.

The city was bustling as they entered. It was starting to get dark and Belle’s father hurried her down the streets before it was too late to call on the king. She tried not to think of how the rest of her night would be spent. Even with Emma’s limited advice, it wasn’t enough to quell the fluttering in her stomach.

“Now, Belle, remember not to be too forward.”

“You do know what you’re asking me to do? How do I do without being forward?” she snapped.

“Just remember to be humble. And think before you speak, don’t make him angry.”

The palace was just outside of the city and the further they walked the larger it seemed to grow. He stopped with her just at the gate. When he put his hand on her shoulder, she shied away from him.

“You need only show them this and they will allow you in, so you needn’t worry about that,” he said and handed her the parchment that had summoned them here. “I’ll be waiting at the inn.”

“I know.”

“Belle, I am sorry—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted and pushed into the metal gate, opening it enough to pass through.

She didn’t look back as she walked up the gravel path. It didn’t matter if her father left immediately or if he watched her till she was inside.

Though the court wasn’t crowded, every person there had their eyes on her. Her gaze was fixed on the front door; she had to keep her confidence. It was the only way she would ever get through this.

Once she was inside, she was immediately stopped by the guards.

“You aren’t welcome here.”

Timidly, she handed them the parchment. “I’ve been summoned.”

The guard glanced at the writing and gave her a look that made her feel extremely self-conscious. It was as if he knew why she was here.

“Let me show you the way, milady.”

Belle had never been inside such a luxurious place. Everything sparkled, everything was colorful, everything cost more than what her father made in a year. She knew she must look out of place walking through these corridors. Even though she loved her mother’s dress, it looked like rags in the palace.

They met only a few others as they winded through the halls. The finely dressed men and women stared at her and when she passed, she heard them whisper and laugh.

Her courage was starting to drain from her the further they walked. But the guard put out an arm to stop her. They were in front of a large door and he ordered her to stay. He opened the door and slipped through it.

It wasn’t long before the door was thrown open and a man came stumbling out. He was dressed well but he had landed on the ground in his attempt to exit too quickly. It made him seem less prestigious.

Loud, thunderous yelling carried out into the hall, immediately followed by a glass vase that sailed over the man’s head. Belle barely ducked out of the way before it hit the wall behind her and shattered.

The man on the floor scrambled away from the door and rushed down the hallway as fast as he could without breaking into a run. Belle stared after him, but someone was at the door again, clearing his throat.

The guard gestured to her to enter. The nervous feeling in her stomach had worsened into an incapacitating terror as she crossed into the room.

The king was standing when Belle entered. He wasn’t anything she had imagined. His clothing, she expected, were casual, though it made the feeling of her plainness intensify. He had a cane, or perhaps it was more of a scepter, with a diamond head, around which his fingers clutched for support.

He was only a few inches taller than her and had a slight frame. She’d imagined he would be large and imposing, but the only thing intimidating about him was the show he’d put on a few moments ago.

His expression was a still a bit angry, but as the guard whispered in his ear, he eyed her calmly.

“Thank you, you’re excused,” he said.

Belle and the king stood facing each other until they were alone.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Isabelle Frenier.”

“Frenier? You’re French?”

“My grandfather was.”

“You’re father’s father?”

“Yes.”

“Hm,” he said and stroked his chin. “And your father…that’s why you’re here now.”

Her heart started to beat faster. The moment was here. At least he had been courteous enough for a few words beforehand. “Yes.”

Sighing, he folded his arms over his chest, “No doubt here to beg his pardon and ask for an extension on his loan?”

“I—” she started, confused. Did he really have no idea why she was here?

“I’m sorry Miss Frenier, but—”

“I’m not here to beg.”

“You’re not?”

“No, I am here to pay off my father’s debt.”

“Alright,” he waited for a long moment and watched her. “You did bring the money?”

“I’m afraid you misunderstand, your majesty,” Belle said quietly, “I am to be the payment.”

“Ah,” was all he said. He had a smirk on his face when he turned from her.

“My father doesn’t have the money,” she said.

“And whose fault is that?” he said, sitting in the large chair to face her.

“It isn’t what you think. My mother…” Belle’s eyes stung at the memory, “She fell ill and we had to use the money for her. He knows of your love for women and he thought… I’m the only thing he has to pay you.”

The smirk on his face disappeared and his expression softened only slightly. “And you agreed to this?”

She could only nod, unable to verbally confirm it. For a long moment, his gaze took all of her in. By the time his eyes returned to her face, she could feel herself blushing.

“You’re married?” his eyes returning to her left hand, where Gaston’s ring wrapped her finger.

“Engaged.”

He stood and as he walked toward her, she could tell his limp was more pronounced when he walked more than three steps. “Your father won’t request any more money from me.”

“Are you accepting?”

“I am.”

He walked past her to a door behind her. Belle didn’t move until he turned back to her and gestured for her to follow. Quickly, she scurried after him into the room, but stopped once she was inside.

“This will have to do,” the king said more, but Belle couldn’t hear him. It was a very luxurious room with soft carpeting and a fireplace with an already blazing fire. There was a large window that, had it been day, would have let in. But the large four-poster bed was the centerpiece that caught her eye.

He noticed her eyeing it, but said nothing. Shrugging off his cloak, he laid it on the arm chair next to the door.

“Come here,” he said as he made his own way over to the bed.

It felt like her entire body had gone numb as she moved toward him.

“Have you ever done this before?”

“Sold myself to the king?”

He smirked as he watched her sit down on the bed. “Have you done this with any man?”

Swallowing, she shook her head, “No.”

His expression was unreadable as he silently looked her over again. He was taking a very long time. She wished he would just get it over with. But still, he watched her.

For a long moment, they just looked at each other until he finally, sighed, “Do you expect me to rip the dress off you, dear?”

“Oh!” she hadn’t thought of the matter of undressing before she’d sat down. She jumped up and he leaned his cane against the wall before pulling at the ribbons. His hands undid them easily. Within moments, her bodice fell from her and he’d pulled her skirts from her waist.

Only the thin material of her undergarments separated his hands from her. No one had ever touched the places he was touching. His hands stayed from the places she feared him touching most, but came extremely close more than once.

He wasn’t grabbing at her, as she feared he might, but grazed her over hips, her backside and her stomach. Gently, he turned her around so he could touch her back.

She was glad when she faced away from him. Every time he touched somewhere new, she winced, squeezing her eyes shut. He could most likely feel her wincing, but at least now he couldn’t watch her.

Finally, he hooked his fingers under the neckline of her chemise and tugged it from her. Though there was a fire blazing in the room, the air felt cool against her skin. Her hands curled against the top of her thighs as she waited for his hands to start exploring her again.

When she remained untouched, she opened her eyes to see him standing in front of her. Their eyes only met for a second before she looked away, fighting the urge to hide herself. He smoothed the blankets on the bed, “Lie down.”

The bed was neatly made and he didn’t go to disrupt the bedding. Perhaps she had bad information, but she was under the impression that this was done between the sheets.

She obeyed, but he told her to move to the center of the mattress. The blankets were soft and the pillows supported her head in a way she knew she would never feel again. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on that.

“I need you to open, dear,” he said.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. He chuckled and placed his hands on her knees, which where tightly clamped together.

“Oh,” she said sheepishly and let him ease her legs apart. She leaned her head back again, but the feeling of his pillows didn’t distract her as he ran his hands up her thigh.

She didn’t need to open her eyes to know he’d leaned over her. When she looked, his face was above her.

“You have been kissed before?”

Normally, she would have been offended at the condescension in his voice, but she could only nod. He didn’t seem to need any other words and he gently pressed his mouth to hers. It started as a kiss she was used to. Gaston kissed her in this manner, with closed lips that barely moved.

Then, the tip of his tongue pressed to her lips.

The action was strange to her, but if it was what he wanted, she couldn’t deny the king. She opened her mouth and his tongue entered her mouth. He tasted of spices she’d never been wealthy enough to have. His tongue roamed her entire mouth, licking every tiny spot he could reach.

Just as she was getting used to him, he pulled away. Blinking a few times, she panted, finally able to breathe through her mouth again.

He was kneeling between her legs, putting most of his weight on his good leg, which made him lean a bit to the side. Leaning back again, she studied the floral pattern on the canopy above her, trying desperately to distract herself from the man between her legs.

The way he rubbed her thigh, it was almost comforting. Not even this action could prepare her for when he touched her sensitive skin. She gasped and, automatically, her legs jerked together, pinning his hand against her.

He didn’t rush her and waited until her muscles relaxed and he could make her open again without resistance.

“Dear?”

It seemed strange for him to still use her surname as he was so intimately touching her. She looked up.

“Yes?”

“You’re a very beautiful girl.”

“You think?” she said and almost laughed with relief. She knew he was trying to put her at ease. It was working.

His hand was still on her, but wasn’t moving. It was just a presence there, as her clothing might be.

“I do.”

“I was afraid you might reject me,” she said, hoping if she continued to speak she could delay him further.

“I might have…” without giving her a warning, he slid a finger between her folds and stroked up. Again, her legs clamped shut.

It was an action she seemed to have no control over.

“Why didn’t you?”

He placed his free hand on her knee, though he didn’t try and pry her open. He smiled, “You asked so nicely.”

Smiling as best she could, she nodded, “Alright…I’m ready.”

His finger continued to stroke her as he eased her legs apart. The feeling of him there was still strange, but it wasn’t bad. He stroked through her again and again, using only one finger then adding another.

Her fingers had clamped the blankets into her fists, but after the sensation of him wasn’t new any longer, she released the bedding.

Seeming to take that as a sign to go further, he slipped a finger inside her.

With a small yelp of surprise, she used all her control to keep her legs from pinning him there again. His finger turned around inside her before he pulled out and resumed stroking her.

His fingers entered her again, only a few more times. Even that she was starting to be used to.

It was doing something to her—something that made her wish he’d keep his fingers in her longer. Her entire body was tense, but not from discomfort. Why she’d ever want to delay him was beyond her.

A moan was building in her throat and she had to bite her lip to keep it down. It wasn’t ladylike to be groaning and grinding against him. The king, at least, deserved a lady.

Then his hand was gone.

Gone completely.

Her eyes snapped open to see him climbing off the bed. He took his cane from the wall and turned to face her.

“That’s it?”

Somehow she had imagined more. Emma had said it would hurt. He hadn’t even gotten undressed. It was supposed to involve both of them, wasn’t it? He was supposed to be just as bare as her. Was that really what everything was? She felt deeply unsatisfied.

He chuckled and rubbed his fingers together—the fingers he’d used on her—as if he was examining the wetness he found there. “I’m sure your fiancé would like to have you intact on your wedding night.”

He looked her over and immediately, she sat up, crossing her legs.

“And being here for that…well, it more than covers your father’s debt.”

She stared at him for a moment, not exactly sure how she should be feeling about this. From his logic, she should be relieved. It would be preferable if she still had her maidenhood on her wedding night. It wasn’t exactly how she felt. She felt rejected by him. Did he not want his own pleasure from her? Was she not even worth completing?

“Put your clothing back on, dear,” he said, “and go.”

“I…” she shook her head and rose from the bed. He stood by and watched her as he leaned against his cane.

Even as her body was covered, she felt self-conscious. She knew she was blushing and she knew if she tried to speak, she might cry. So she did nothing but focus on threading up her dress.

Once she’d finished, he led her back through the room they’d originally been in. Still, he rubbed his fingers together. He stopped at the door.

“Feel free to come back,” he said, almost sounding as if he was mocking her, and he leaned in to kiss her cheek.

It made her angry and she glared at him. This was one thing she could decide for herself. “If that’s all there is, I don’t think I’ll bother, your majesty.”

She opened the door, leaving him looking a little dumbstruck. She remembered her way to the front of the palace and was walking back through the town in the middle of the night.

The inn was close to the palace gates. Inside, there were a few drunkards sitting at the bar, but mostly it was deserted. The owner stood behind the bar, wiping out a drinking mug.

“Excuse me,” Belle said, “Where is Mr. Frenier staying?”

“Second door on the left,” he said without looking up.

Belle didn’t bother thanking him and only turned to go. When she knocked on the door, her father immediately opened the door to let her in.

“Belle? What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she snapped.

“But you—”

“Your debt is paid.”

He didn’t say another word and lay back down in his tousled bedding.

She wished she didn’t have her father so close. The king had left her yearning for him. The feel of her heart was still thumping where his hands had been. It took all her will to keep her hands from herself and finishing what he’d started.

She’d told him she wouldn’t be returning, but the longer she lay in her bed, the longer her craving stewed within her, she couldn’t be so certain.

She curled around herself, knowing she wouldn’t sleep much that night.


	2. Chapter 2

Her words shouldn’t have affected him like they did. William had thought that she would appreciated that he’d let her husband be the first to pleasure her fully, but she’d taken his kindness and thrown it back in his face.

The girl…What was her name? The only thing he remembered was that it was French. He hadn’t bothered to take note of it when she’d told him, and hadn’t repeated it. Her name evaded him, but her face was engrained in to his mind permanently. Since that night, every time he closed his eyes, she was the only thing he could think about.

Unless he was trying to concentrate on his official work, it wasn’t a problem.

Then, other complications arose.

The first time his mistress had visited him, he was off put by how different she acted. She was forward, almost appallingly so. The woman forced herself to him, kissing him wetly and it was messy. She ripped at her own clothing and burrowed into his bed.

He’d been aching for release since the girl—God, what was her name?—so he disrobed himself and followed. The girl had left him hard and ready. He brought his mistress quickly and she screamed, riding him to have more.

The next time she’d visited, he hushed her. It no longer appealed to him when she screamed and he wanted her quiet. She had looked confused and barely followed his command. It was near impossible to imagine his girl when below him this woman was screaming. The next night, he’d only been able to make her climax when he put his hand over her mouth to silence her.

Two weeks later, William had asked his chief adviser to acquire him a new mistress. The current woman that filled his bed was fair and blonde. Perhaps if he had a woman with the same color hair as the girl it would be easier to find release.

His adviser obeyed without question and by night a new girl had arrived. She looked nothing like his girl. Her face was too oval, her eyes were green, and her hair was too dark. He hadn’t bothered to learn her name, not when his girl’s was still evading him.

But she was quiet when he told her to be.

It helped only for a few nights. It was only when he was alone with himself he could fully imagine it was his girl clenching around him. That too got old. He wanted company—the right company.

He was the king. The king pleased every woman he’d been with. Except a lowly peasant girl. She thought her king impotent and it was the only thing he could concentrate on. What must she think of him as a man? Every horrid thought of him passed through his thoughts.

Even when he was with his mistress he thought only of what his girl must think. It distracted him and he could barely get his body ready.

Barely turned to never. And his fears of what his girl thought of him became truth.

His mistress knew nothing of his body’s refusal to perform. She cared nothing of him and was content when he used only his fingers. Always, she found her release and left while he washed any trace of her away from his fingers.

He made sure to wash his hands after every occurrence. He’d tasted his fingers after his girl had left, curious as to what she tasted of. It was a curiosity he’d had since he’d taken his first mistress. There might not be another chance to taste his girl and he refused to let some whore replace the memory of her flavor.

It was never a problem getting aroused. This had never happened to him. At least not until now.

If he could only get her to come back, he would be able to perform, able to please her along with himself.

This problem was something that needed immediate attending to. It would only be a matter of time before his mistress would notice. The blonde woman he’d had before still wandered about his court and they were bound to cross paths. This new mistress would wonder why he only touched her.

It could never get out. His masculinity would be called into question and enemy countries would take advantage as his weakness.

It was weakness and he couldn’t deny it. A girl had reduced him to nothing with one sentence. It was something that should happen to no man.

But it wasn’t permanent; he just needed to get her back. Every time his body failed him, this was what he told himself.

He cursed himself for letting his girl go. She’d been willing to let him take her and he’d let the chance slip through his fingers.

Would it have been worse, though, if he had finished with her? If he’d actually known her, would he long even more for her?

It was a strong possibility. Perhaps he was better off if she never returned.

But if she was married now, the chance of her coming back was even more slim. Engagements didn’t last long between peasants and it had been over a month since she’d been in his bed.

The thought of her husband being inside her made him angry, but he didn’t dwell on those thoughts. He had been the first person to touch her—the first person to ever taste her. He still had that.

It was early in the evening and he sat at the small table where he filled out paperwork. He wouldn’t call for his mistress. If he called her, it would only give this night more stress.

That day had been spent pouring over recruitment forms, checking that everyone who had been called had reported to the crown. It was long, tiring work that made his head ache.

He sat at the table, still needing half the parchments to be signed and sealed.

Fredrick Smith.

Gaston Baker.

Thomas Cooper.

This was just a few of the many who had not reported for duty. The war being fought in the boarders was brutal and scared the men of the kingdom. But it was a battle that needed to be fought.

The kingdom to the north wanted the port leading out to sea, a port which lay four miles into William’s land. It brought in an indispensable amount of revenue for his country, but none of the men seemed to recognize that.

“Your majesty?”

William turned to see a guard peering in.

“Yes?”

“Your lady is here.”

For a moment his heart leapt and he scrambled to his feet. He was severely disappointed when it was not ‘his lady’ who entered the room. His mistress walked to him, immediately sliding her arms around him. The guard was about to leave, but William called him.

“Could you take these,” he said. As he disentangled her arms from his waist, he bent to retrieve the parchments from the table.

“Of course, your majesty,” he took them with a bow and quickly exited.

His mistress tried to embrace him again, but he shrugged her off. “I can’t tonight. I have work that needs doing.”

“Oh,” she said quietly.

“You are welcome to take a room and sleep.”

“Yes, your majesty,” she nodded and he was left alone again.

Though there was more paperwork to be done, William felt exhausted. He lay down, hoping that his girl would visit him in his dreams. It would torture him in the morning, but he always hoped to see her when he was drifting off to sleep.

***

When he awoke, he jumped when he saw an annoyingly familiar face just inches from his own.

“Goddamnit boy!” William rolled onto his back, away from his son.

“Morning, Father! Sleep well?” His son was always too happy for William’s liking. Especially in the morning.

“What are you doing here, Bay?”

“I came to inquire about the rumors.”

“What rumors?” William covered his eyes with his arm to block out the blinding sunlight.

“People are saying you let a peasant farmer out of his debt?”

“It’s not true.”

“Oh, thank God!” Bay leaned back in his chair and sighed.

“I arranged a new deal with his daughter.”

“Ah, so then the other rumors are true then.”

“Do people have nothing else to do other than to gossip about my life?”

“Father, you can’t have done what they’re saying.”

“She offered herself to me—”

Bay shook his head and stood from his chair, “I don’t need to know.”

“Then you should not have asked.” William pushed the covers away. His son watched him as he took his cane and robe from the bedside.

“I know you prefer to stay isolated in here, but there are people out there who notice what you do and bedding a peasant girl will not put you in a good light. You will be propositioned by every man who owes you a debt.”

“Only the men with daughters,” William leaned on his cane as he rang for his attendant. “Bay…if you had seen this girl, you would understand.”

“So a remarkable beauty then?”

“Rest assured, son,” William clapped him on the shoulder, “It was single occurrence.”

“It had better be.” Bay left when the door opened and left William to get dressed.

The day was long, spending most it in his conference room. The northern army had staged an attack last night. Not many casualties had occurred, but his advisers were pressing him to finish the summons before he left.

It was evening before he was finally able to sit back in his chair and close his eyes. The bed was not far, but he was content just to sit.

When the door opened behind him, he didn’t open his eyes.

“Your majesty?”

“Yes?” the annoyance was clear at being disturbed, but he didn’t care enough right now to be courteous.

“You have a visitor.”

Angrily, he turned in his chair with the intent of quickly dismissing whoever was disturbing him. Then his eyes fell on his small, brunette girl standing behind his guard.

It was as if a weight had been pressed on him without him knowing and when he saw her, the invisible burden was lifted. Her dress was plainer than her previous one, but he would have her in nothing else.

Somehow he was on his feet and had moved closer to her, “Thank you.”

The guard left them quickly, barely giving William a chance to take her in.

“You came back,” he said. There was no trace of what he felt inside. It took great concentration to keep his voice calm while he was simultaneously trying to keep his hands from shaking.

Nodding, she held her hand out to him. There was a rolled parchment clutched in her fist. Wordlessly, he took it and read it.

Another summon brought her back to him. A war summon. He had sent it out a few days ago.

When he looked up, she was standing with her head bowed and her hands behind her back.

“Who is it this time? Uncle? Brother? Cousin?”

“Does it matter?”

He ran his fingers over the head of his cane, “I suppose not. And tell me, dear, why is it I should have you again?”

These words made her raise her eyes, “You told me I could come back.”

That he did.

Smirking, he took a step forward. “I’d hoped you would come back on your own—without the need of my pardon.”

She nodded, “I understand.”

When she made her way to turn, he couldn’t help but speak. Bay was right. He would later regret this, but as of this moment, he would do anything to have her again. He could feel himself twitching inside his pants for the first time in weeks. It was a feeling he would not let evade him again.

“If I were to accept,” he said and she stopped, turning to face him, “I would require more than I did for your father’s debt, Miss…”

Her face fell a bit when he failed to remember her name, but she gave it to him, “Frenier.”

“Ah, yes. The war we are fighting is no small matter.”

He had expected her to reject him, but it didn’t take her two seconds to answer. “Of course. It would only be fair.”

“No,” he let his eyes travel over her and she blushed at his scrutiny. “Let’s do this properly, shall we?”

Her eyebrows knit together, not understanding what he meant.

“Follow me,” he said.

He would have taken her hand, but the hallway was not deserted when he opened the door. It wasn’t wrong to be seen with Miss Frenier, but he knew he had to keep some of the propriety he had left.

She walked a few paces behind him. As they got to the stairs, however, she was quicker than he was. His leg hadn’t been good with stairs. There was only two flights they had to climb. After he’d been injured, the closest bedroom which didn’t house his servants was on the third floor. He tried to only make the journey to and from once a day.

Miss Frenier slowed her pace so she slowly ascended the stairs by his side.

“I’m sorry, dear,” he said, pausing to bend and rub his knee.

“It’s fine.”

This was not the impression he was trying to make. She already thought he was incompetent; now he appeared even more defective. But when he looked up, she looked almost concerned as she watched him.

“Are you alright?”

Straightening, he sighed. “Yes, dear,” he started walking again.

Luckily, his room was close. When they entered, he heard her breath catch quietly. She was gazing around in awe. When she saw his large bookshelf, her eyes lit up.

“You like reading?” he asked.

“I’ve always wanted to.” Her eyes never left the books, “the thought of completely immersing yourself in a new world is incredible. May I?” she asked, making a move toward it.

“Be my guest.”

She almost ran to the shelves and started running her fingers over the bindings. He sat down on the mattress and watched her. It was the first time he’d seen her smile.

“Tell me, Miss Frenier—”

“Belle,” she still examined the books and ran her fingers over the pages.

Belle. Of course. How could he have forgotten? It fit her too perfectly.

“Belle,” he said and it was only then that she looked up. She saw him on the bed and she slowly closed the book she’d been examining. “How is your father’s farm doing?”

“Uh,” pausing, she put the book back and sat on the mattress next to him, “It’s surviving. Thanks to you.”

“Thanks to you.”

She smiled and looked at her hands, which rested in her lap. Slowly, he reached out and took them in his own hands. There was a bit of surprise when she looked up and he smiled, trying to ease her nerves.

“…We should be getting on with it, I suppose.” She drew one of her hands from his and going to the front of her dress.

But he took her hand away from her chest and softly kissed her. Her lips felt and tasted exactly as he remembered. This time he would make sure to enjoy it more. Slowly, he pressed her back onto the bed and maneuvered until he was straddled on top of her. Her dress had just enough fabric to get in the way, but he didn’t let that stop him.

It was different than the last time. Her lips didn’t just press against his, but worked with him. She let his tongue enter her mouth more easily, though her own barely moved. He raked his hands through her hair, but her hairpins tangled with his fingers and he was forced to pull away from him.

Beneath him, she was flushed and panting quietly. The sight of her made him twitch again. He had hoped that she would bring function back to his body. It was a relief to find he had been correct.

When he had paused, his hands still caught in her hair, she took the initiative to start pulling at her hairpins. He waited while she worked and when most of them were out, he was finally able to comb his fingers through it.

The hair pins were clutched in her fist, but with her other free hand, she ran her own fingers through his hair. Her hair was long and as he combed it and it splayed out nicely onto the bed. It felt finer than any silk he’d ever worn. It wasn’t dirty like the few peasants he’d seen roaming about. She was in much better condition than them. She was in much finer condition than anyone he could think of.

She was beautiful. She was perfect.

Her hand had stilled on the back of his neck and he realized he had been looking at her for more than a few moments.

There was a sharp pain in his leg when he tried to move away from her, but he didn’t let it show. He shrugged off his overcoat and kicked off his boots. After he’d started to disrobe, Belle too sat up and started to unfasten her bodice.

She was much quicker than he was. His clothing was much more complex and he’d only just gotten his vest unlaced. She was already in her camisole, waiting for him. The pants he’d worn that day were simple breeches and they were much simpler to slip off.

As he was about to pull off his shirt, he hesitated. Candles still lit almost the entire room. His body would be entirely visible in the light and he couldn’t have that. The scar on his leg was ugly and could only be hidden by darkness. It would be yet another reminder he was lacking and he would not have her see it.

When he tugged at the string to release the curtains around the bed, Belle realized what he wanted and moved to the tie on the other side, saving him from having to crawl across the bed. Together, they released the final curtain that eliminated any trace of light.

With the darkness came heaviness. It was not a bad heaviness, but the situation seemed that much more real. The last time these curtains had been shut was when he and his wife had conceived Bay. They hadn’t been touched in almost 28 years.

Every sound was amplified in this enclosed space—the rustling of their undergarments as they moved in the bed, Belle’s quiet breathing, even his hear thumped a bit louder in his chest. They were enclosed in a this small casing and no one could disturb them.

They still hadn’t touched since they’d stripped down, but he was growing harder every second. He had let her undress herself, but he was the one to finally pull her camisole off and reveal her body once again to him.

Her skin seemed to glow in the darkness. It was soft and light underneath his fingers. She chewed her bottom lip as his hands explored her, but she didn’t flinch as she had before. His fingers caressed over her breasts and her eyes flutter closed.

Slowly, he leaned in and pressed his lips to the tops of each one. It surprised him when her fingers combed back through his hair and he opened his mouth over her. Her chest rose and fell quickly under his mouth and it was difficult to pull away.

When he did, her eyes were bright and she hesitantly reached out to his shirt. Her hand was so slow, but when she did reach him she didn’t hesitate to slip her fingers under the thin fabric and touch him. It was a light, feathery touch but it still sent shivers surging through him, flaring between his legs.

It was encouraging. Her last visit, she had barely moved. Now, as they sat there, she didn’t look scared. He supposed he should thank her husband for that.

She pulled her fingers from his skin to run them down his chest and stomach. But when she saw the hardness hidden beneath his thin linen trousers, her hand froze.

“Belle,” he breathed, placing his hand over hers. Her eyes snapped up to meet his gaze.

If she wasn’t going remove his shirt, he would. He released her hand and pulled the shirt over his head. Belle’s eyes scanned his torso.

He wasn’t sure what kind of body her husband had and he was unsure whether or he looked better or worse. Even before he was injured, he’d never been as muscular as some men. But, even now when he had to limp everywhere, he had not become overweight as so many kings did.

Her fingers were on him again, stopping his thoughts. She traced over every inch of him leaving his skin tingling under her touch.

She was there too long. And he couldn’t take it any longer. Straddling her again, he forced her back down to the bed. He reached for the tie on his trousers, she stopped him.

“Will you…” she hesitated and then shook her head. “Never mind.”

“No, tell me.”

“I, uh,” she took his hand and as she guided it, he braced himself on his elbow to hold his weight. She brought his fingers between her legs. Knowing she wanted this made him smile.

His fingers ran through her and he found her wetter than she had been when he’d let her go.

She really wanted this.

He stroked her a few times, but he didn’t take as long to plunge his fingers into her. She dug her head back into the pillow. Though she tried to contain it, a moan escaped her and he worked his fingers in her again. Her body clenched against him, making his own throb for her.

Just as she began to writhe against him, he removed his fingers. He waited and she relaxed her fists. When she looked up at him, the look on her face was distressed and he smirked.

“Are you going to stop again?”

He laughed, “No.”

Leaning in, he kissed her back onto the mattress. “Dear, you needn’t try to be so quiet.”

As much as he loved her quiet sounds, but the thought of her crying out for him was more appealing than air itself. She gulped and wrapped her arms around his neck. Whether he was supposed to take that as compliance or not, he couldn’t guess.

But as his hand slid back down to rub through her again, it seemed she would remain quiet. Her soft, breathy gasps sounded in his ear and even as he slid another finger inside, her moans stayed in the back of her throat.

He leaned away, taking his fingers from her to place them in his mouth. Closing his eyes, he reveled in the taste. It was just as he’d remembered—better than he’d remembered. It was sweet and spicy and his mouth watered when he removed his fingers from his mouth.

The though crossed his mind to place his mouth between her legs to taste more of her, but when he opened his eyes, she was looking at him with a confused look.

Quickly he thrust the last of his clothing down leaving him just as naked as she. The air seemed too cool when he revealed himself and he shuddered. He ran his fingers over himself and the head of his erection, gathering as much moisture as he could. Spreading it over his fingers, he thrust them into her mouth.

Her eyes widened with surprise for a moment, but then her tongue started to curl around his fingers. Her lips closed around him and her teeth clamped down. She sucked him hard, pressing his fingers to the roof of her mouth, cleaning all she could from him.

With his other hand, he ran his fingers through her again. Her teeth nipped him a bit harder and she watched as he put his other fingers to his own mouth.

For a moment, they lay there for a moment, with his fingers in their mouths. The longer they stayed, they longer they tasted, she started to smile and soon she was giggling loudly. He didn’t know what she thought was so amusing, but he couldn’t help but laugh with her. Still, she kept his fingers in her teeth but her tongue no longer lapped at him when she was laughing.

He buried his laugh in her shoulder and stayed there until their laughing had subsided. Even a few minutes after he’d taken his fingers from his own mouth and was kissing Belle’s neck, she let out a few more giggles.

Her teeth still held his fingers, but he knew he couldn’t tease her anymore. He was aching, longing to push inside her. Kissing down her neck, she finally released his fingers. Her heart was beating under her chest rapidly; he could feel it beneath his lips.

With both his hands free, he pulled her legs up to his hips. He felt her tense beneath him and he kissed her again, slowly. It seemed to put her at ease when he stroked her hair and caressed her breasts. Her legs were still wrapped around him and he was desperately close to her slick entrance. It wasn’t as much time as she needed, but he couldn’t stop himself.

He pressed his hips down, barely grazing her skin. She gasped at the sensation, but she didn’t pull away. In fact, she clung to him tighter. Her hands gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into him.

“It’s alright,” he whispered repeatedly as he slowly pushed himself inside her.

Her breath caught and she couldn’t seem to catch it again. She was squeezed against him, every part of her holding him to her. The warmth her body was radiating penetrated through him and his hips twitched. A small whimper sounded from her throat and he forced himself to be still.

Soon, her grip eased a bit, though she still clutched him. It wasn’t a sensation he was used to. Yes, women held him, but she was hanging to him with all her strength. No other woman clung to him like this before. He didn’t know what to think. Was she enjoying this? Her little whimpers could be from discomfort just as easily as they could be from pleasure.

When would he know when he pleased her? Would he know at all? With only the feeling of her around him, he could have found his release with barely any effort. But he needed to please her. He wanted to please her.

Pulling back to look at her, her face was blank, her eyes closed.

“Belle?”

She opened her eyes. They looked a bit glassy, but still gave nothing away.

“Tell me.”

“T-tell you?”

He nodded and pressed further into her. The soft, warm walls pressed tighter against him and he started to rock his hips into hers.

“Tell me,” he couldn’t seem to tell her what he wanted to hear. He wasn’t exactly sure himself what he wanted to hear.

His ear didn’t move more than a few inches from her mouth. If she wouldn’t cry out for him, her small sounds were loud enough if he stayed close. Perhaps he would be able to tell if her moans gave any signs of her pleasure.

“Tell me,” he couldn’t seem to stop the words from coming. He angled his hips and drove upward.

She winced, her breath catching. Had it not been for her legs pulling further around him, he would have stopped.

That was what he was waiting for—her way of telling him she liked what he did. She wasn’t one to yell and scream, she showed her need with her hands and touch.

Mimicking the movement, he drove faster. It sped everything that happened. Her breath came out quickly onto his ear. He had his hands in her hair, gripping it at the root to pull her closer to him.

Just as he felt he would shatter his teeth by how hard he bit down, he felt her reach her orgasm. She buried her forehead into his shoulder, digging her nails into his shoulder and only the low moan she let out was any indication he’d pleased her at all.

She shuttered beneath him for the longest time and he let himself thrust for his own pleasure. His seemed to come just as powerful as hers, riding into her without any thought but to empty all of him into her.

All his strength was spent from him and he all but collapsed on top of her. Their breathing fell into rhythm, their chests rising and falling with each other.

It was nice to lay there. His knee had taken much of his weight and it was beginning to feel the effects of his ambitions. Belle was stroking the back of his hair as she let her head fall back to the pillow. It took a few minutes to realize she wasn’t just panting as he was, but she was sniffling.

He pulled back to look at her and saw tears made her eyes watery. Quickly, he pulled himself out of her warm body and stroked her cheek.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered and turned away from him. “I—I should be honored.”

“Honored for what? Belle, what are you talking about?”

“It should be an honor to have a king as your first.”

He froze. “You…you’re not married yet?”

“My father has been ill. We were waiting until spring,” she sat up and hugged her knees, letting the blanket fall from her. The idea that he’d been jealous of her husband having her first made him bite his lip. She had given herself to him—let him be the first to enter her.

William felt a twinge of guilt as he lifted the blanket and saw a wet spot of blood on his sheets where she’d laid. Had he known, he would have been much gentler. He sat up with her and rubbed a hand over her back, kissing her shoulder, “I’m sorry if I hurt you…I should have—”

“No, it’s not that,” she said, her face still buried in her knees.

His front was pressed to her back and the pure skin contact sent another wave through him, hardening him again. Now that his body had found himself again, it seemed any contact from her would elicit that response. He tried not to let her feel it. “I—I shouldn’t have forced you to lie with me. If you didn’t—”

At that, she lifted her face and quickly shook her head, “I wanted to come back. I did want to.”

“Then, I don’t understand…”

With a small sniff, she wiped her eyes. “Gaston…”

“The name on the summon? Who is he?”

It was a moment before she spoke and he kissed her neck again as she fought her tears. “My fiancé,” she finally choked out.

His lips stilled against her. William had assumed that she was doing this secretively, supposing only her father knew of their encounters. “He knows about this?”

“Practically pushed me out the door.”

“Oh.”

“I knew it wasn’t about love but…” she lowered her head again and her shoulders trembled, “Why didn’t he want me?”

He gathered her in his arms and she turned into his embrace, her arms coiling around his bare shoulders. Her body was so close to his, she could no doubt feel his hardness on her legs. It wasn’t right that he get aroused by this, but her skin against his again was unbearably hot. Her hands held him as they had when he’d been inside her. She shook as she had when she’d climaxed.

But he only held her, pushing away thoughts of his selfish pleasures. He would hold her for as long as she needed.

Only a few tears streaked down his chest and he knew she was trying to be strong, trying not to feel what she felt. When her shoulders finally stilled, he stroked her hair.

“Belle,” he said and pulled back from her. Before she looked at him, she blinked a few times. “Let me tell you something…as a man, not a king.”

She rubbed the back of her hand against her nose and nodded. His fingers traced over her shoulder and back into her hair.

“If your husband won’t have you, I will,” he said. For a moment, she was still. Finally, she looked up. “I want you. I would have you, every night.”

The smile she gave him was sad, but when he kissed her again, she hooked her arms around his neck, pushing up onto her knees to meet him. It was the first time she’d kissed him with any kind of passion. Her lips worked to open his and when her tongue snaked through, he moaned as she tentatively drug it over the roof of his mouth.

Her entire front was pressed to him and he gripped her hips to keep her from pulling away. But pull away she did.

“I should be going,” she breathed. “My father is expecting me before morning.”

William nodded, “Yes, of course.”

“Um,” her eyes drifted to his hard erection which pressed into her hip and he chuckled.

“It’s no matter dear; I can take care of this on my own. Get dressed—”

Her hand curling around him cut him off and he groaned, doubling over and his forehead crashed into hers. All his muscles tensed as she massaged him, but she was being far too soft. Though he enjoyed being able to revel in her soft hands, if her father was expecting her, he would need his release to come much faster.

He started pulling himself behind her little strokes. When she followed him, her grip was a bit firmer. Moans were escaping him and he could feel her gaze on him, but he only pressed closer to her, his nose pressing into her cheek.

With a final jerk into her hand, his body seized uncontrollably leaving him breathless and limp for the second time that night. Her hand stayed around him until he was no longer stiff and when he looked, he saw her leg was coated with his excretion.

“I’m sorry,” he said, trying to wipe himself from her.

Placing her hand over his, she stilled him and pressed a kiss lightly to his lips, “Don’t be.”

As she slid away from him, through the curtains, he sighed and fell back into the pillows. His breath still came in shallow gasps and his knee was shooting pain all the way through his spine.

The curtains opened again and Belle peered in. She was fully dressed and her hair was pinned almost as neatly as it had been when she’d first arrived.

“Am I to show myself out?”

“No,” he said and rolled out from the darkness of his bed. Within a few moments, in his shirt and pants, he was decent enough to exit the room.

This late at night, the palace halls were deserted of anyone, but the guards. Even they were only stationed by the doors and stairs. So William took her hand and limped down the hall with her.

He stopped her before they reached the top of the stairs, “You’ll come back, won’t you?”

“If you’ll have me,” she said hopefully.

He kissed her cheek, “My bedroom is never closed to you.” He limped to the top of the stairs and called for the guard. “Forgive me dear, if I don’t walk you out myself. My knee is rather…strained.”

Belle giggled quietly and curtsied before descending down the stairs.


	3. Chapter 3

A carriage awaited her when she came from the castle. It was a pleasant surprise. The temperature at night dropped considerably this late in the season. Belle hadn’t been looking forward to the walk home. Now, she could sit comfortably in the large carriage.

Her stomach ached from where he’d punctured her and she wrapped her arms around herself. The side of the carriage was cloth and she leaned against it while she watched the blurred shapes of the trees fly past the door. She rubbed her eyes. They always got bright red when she cried and she didn’t want Emma to see.

When she stepped out of the carriage, she thanked the coachman and walked inside with her head bowed.

“Belle?” Emma sat waiting at the table, holding Grace. Henry sat at Jefferson’s feet, drawing shapes in the dirt floor. She had called for her husband to bring their children when Papa had gotten ill. He’d arrived not even a week ago and when he’d found out what they had asked of Belle, he’d been outraged. Emma’s attempts to keep him from yelling at her father were in vain and Papa had gotten worse after that night. She passed the infant to her husband when Belle entered.

Gaston and their father stood at the fireplace, turning when Emma spoke. She stood immediately taking Belle’s hands. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she said giving her sister a small smile. “I think I’ll take a bath.”

“Belle?” Gaston tried to stop her when she let go of Emma’s hands. With a glare, she jerked away from his hands.

“I don’t have anything to say to you.”

Filling the wash basin was a time consuming task, but Belle refused to let Gaston or her father help her. She did let Emma come with her to the well, but she didn’t speak much. Finally the basin was full enough to sit in and she was left alone to bathe.

She scrubbed away the blood on her thighs and when it was gone, she leaned back in the cool water. She didn’t cry; she almost felt nothing. The memories of her night were already starting to blur, not like the first night she’d spent with the king. Those memories were clear as day. This night, however, she’d been too busy enjoying him to be focused on the specifics.

What she did clearly remember brought a little embarrassment. She’d sobbed at him like a child. It wasn’t like her to cry, especially in front of others. And what she’d cried over had been so trivial now.

Gaston cared nothing for her maidenhood. If she could have guessed, she might have thought he was rather intimidated by it. Her fiancé had been with women before. He’d told her he hadn’t had his own virginity in years, that he’d never taken a woman’s maidenhood. It wasn’t important to him that either of them be untouched on their wedding night.

The more she thought of it, the better she felt about going to the king. Belle was glad she’d given herself to someone who seemed to care. He’d been concerned that he’d hurt her, a concern that would not have crossed Gaston’s mind.

The water was staring to get cold, but she didn’t want to end her bath yet. This would be her only time alone for the rest of the night. Emma would want to sit with her—talk with her. Belle felt better about this second visit, but it was still not something she wanted to share with anyone.

Eventually, she was forced to stand from the water and wrap herself in a wool cloth. There was a knock on her door as if they’d been outside waiting this whole time. When she’d gotten her nightgown on, she called them in.

Emma entered quickly and secured the door tightly behind her.

“Belle, you seem… distant. Are you sure you are alright?”

“Yes,” Belle sat down and leaned her head to the side to let her hair drip.

“The king—”

“Emma, I…I don’t want to talk about this.”

She sat on the bed next to her, “Just tell me… was he cruel to you?”

“No. He was,” Belle smiled as one very specific memory of them lying naked on each other, laughing madly with his fingers in their mouths. “He was perfect.”

“Thank god!” Emma sighed, “Last time, I thought it was…I was so worried for you.”

After Belle’s first visit with the king, she had refused to speak of what had happened. Now that Belle was more conversational, Emma would give her the comfort she thought Belle needed.

“You shouldn’t have been.”

“So he was good?”

Belle glanced up at her sister and saw what her expression implied. She blushed deeply as she shook her head. “I wouldn’t know. I really have no comparison.”

“You don’t necessarily have to. Just as long as he gets the job done,” Emma nudged her with her elbow and Belle laughed, her unwillingness to talk about the matter was beginning to lift.

Of course her sister knew about such things and could speak lightly of them; she had been married for years and had two children. It was nice to connect in such a way with her.

“Then, yes. He was more than satisfactory.”

Emma threw back her head, laughing. “I knew it would be better this time. The first is never much fun, but once that’s over with,” she raised an eyebrow.

Swallowing, she nodded. “Right.” Emma didn’t know. This had been her first time and it had been quite enjoyable. It was to be even better? She bit her bottom lip and tried not to smile when she thought of it.

“Papa was worried about you too.”

“Not Gaston.”

“…he didn’t say much.”

“He hasn’t even tried to thank me.”

Emma put a hand on her shoulder, “I think he’s just trying to give you time. He knows you’re angry.”

“I’m not angry.”

“You’re not?”

Belle shook her head. It wasn’t anger she felt. She didn’t feel anything to Gaston. He could have been a stranger to her. Gaston no longer meant anything to her. It was hard to be angry at someone who didn’t matter. “No. I don’t care about him.”

Emma was quiet for a moment, “You’re still going to marry him?”

“I have to. I can’t stay with Papa forever.” Thoughts of her future hadn’t occurred to her as something she should think about. When she was married, would she still be able to visit the king? It was one thing when she was Gaston’s fiancée, but he might not feel so apathetic on the matter once she was his wife.

“It won’t be so bad,” Emma took her hand.

“The king. He told me I could come back.”

“He did?”

“Mm hmm.”

“Are you going to?”

“I don’t know…”

“Oh, God,” Emma sighed and let go of her hand, “You like him, don’t you?”

“No.” And she didn’t. Not really. She liked him better than Gaston. Then again, at the moment, she liked most people more than Gaston.

“Belle, he’s the king,” she said. It was the tone their mother used to take. If Emma thought being a mother to Henry was reason for her to mother Belle, she was sorely mistaken. “Maybe it’s better if you don’t—”

“I am aware of that, thank you,” Belle snapped. “And if I choose to go back, I won’t be asking your permission.”

“Fine, do what you want.” She stood up and without another glace to Belle, she left.

Sighing, Belle lay back on the small cot. She regretted upsetting the pleasant connection they’d made. It wouldn’t return unless one of them apologized. That person would have to be Belle. Emma was stubborn when she was angry. But so was Belle.

It was late by the time Emma came back in with Henry. Belle pretended to sleep as Emma tucked him in the bed across the room.

“Belle?” Henry’s quiet voice sounded only when Emma had gone.

“Yes?”

“Did you see any knights at the castle?”

Belle smiled, though she was turned to the wall and he couldn’t see. She turned to face him, “I saw one.”

His eyes brightened and he jumped off the bed to sit on the floor in front of her. “What was he like?”

“He was being yelled at by the king.”

“The king is scary,” he said, hugging his knees. “Boys at home say he’s like a cobra or a bear or something.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say he’s like a bear,” she said laughing, “Henry, don’t you think it’s a bit past your bedtime?”

His shoulders slumped when he realized she wasn’t going to talk more about the king’s court, “Yeah…”

“Good night.”

“Mm.”

Outside their door, her family was still awake and still talking quite loudly. Henry seemed to have no problem sleeping through it though. He snored quietly and Belle lay on her back, waiting for the house to be quiet.

***

The next days, her father’s health didn’t improve. It didn’t get worse, which provided some hope. Emma and Jefferson were forced to stay longer than they’d thought to help harvest the field. Belle found she missed her sister and, eventually, apologized. Things were almost the way they had been between them, but they avoided talking about the king. Their views still differed and they didn’t want to get into another fight.

It was getting late into harvest season. Belle began to work on the field before the men were awake and they didn’t oppose to her assistance. Emma also came out and even Henry helped to carry rocks and baskets of vegetables.

Sunset came and went and they still worked. The market was open one last day tomorrow and they had to get their crops to sell. They didn’t go to bed until a few hours to dawn. Belle would have been better off not sleeping at all. When Gaston came to wake her, she could barely sit up. But Henry pulled her to her feet.

Emma stayed with their father and Grace. Belle kissed Papa goodbye, though he was asleep. His health was failing little by little each day and it was a real possibility he would not be breathing when she returned.

Gaston took his usual place in the lead while Belle, Jefferson and Henry walked in a row behind him. Jefferson had always gotten along with Belle, but when they started a conversation, Gaston glanced back at him suspiciously. It made Belle angry. Gaston had a problem with Belle talking to her friend, but he had no problem sending her to warm the king’s bed?

The rest of the walk to the city was spent in an awkward silence. Even Henry didn’t try to speak. 

It wasn’t until the market had come into view did Gaston direct them to their booth. He’d left them alone as he went to do his own shopping and Henry wasn’t the only one who brightened once Gaston had left.

It was Henry’s first time coming to Market and he was hoping to see a ‘real knight’. Belle and Jefferson met eyes. They knew that knights or any kind of nobles did not come to a peasants’ market, but they wouldn’t ruin his fun.

“Belle,” Jefferson said when Henry had run off with a few boys, “are you really doing alright?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“Well, I don’t know why other people do, but I ask because you’re my friend. I know you hate being treated like property.”

“That’s because I’m not property. A woman can’t do much. But she can save her family. That was what I did.”

“And you are really alright with this?”

“I wasn’t at first, but…” she smiled at the concern Jefferson had in his eyes. He’d always been one of her best friends. Sometimes he was easier to talk to than Emma was. “It wasn’t like I thought it would be.”

“And Gaston?”

“I didn’t go for Gaston. I wouldn’t ever do that for him.”

“Then why’d you go?”

“Why do you think I went?” She raised her eyebrows at him and a loud laugh burst from him, attracting many startled looks.

“Isabelle, you little devil!” he said as his laughing died down. He nudged her in the side until she swatted him away. Belle was happy about his reaction. It wasn’t how Emma had reacted, but it is how she wished her sister would have been. Jefferson didn’t judge her and it was refreshing.

“A woman can enjoy herself.”

“You’re an engaged woman.”

And with that, her delighted mood was killed. She sighed, “Whose fiancé doesn’t seem to care what she does.”

“He is a bit indifferent about the matter.”

“You wouldn’t have asked Emma to—”

“Absolutely not.”

“Because she’s yours?”

“No.” he looked surprised that she would ask that, “Because she is my wife and I am her husband and you’re supposed to honor that.”

“Do you think Gaston’s thoughts will change once we’re married?”

“It’s possible.”

“Because he’ll want to honor me as his wife?”

Jefferson paused, only glancing at her through the corner of his eyes. “That’s less possible.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Well, hey,” he nudged her again, more lightly this time, “you always have me.”

Belle smiled, but at the moment, Henry ran up to the booth. “Papa! Papa! Come look! Belle, come look!”

“What is it, son?”

Henry grabbed both of them by their hands, “It’s the prince! Prince Balfour is here!”

“What?” Belle asked, stopping. “The prince is here?”

“Uh huh!” he tugged them again toward a crowd that had gathered. Belle hadn’t noticed it while she was talking to Jefferson, but it was a large crowd and they had to fight their way through.

When they’d pushed as far as they could, Belle couldn’t see much. She was short and even when she stood on her toes, she could only see over the children. Jefferson was craning his neck while he held Henry up to see.

“What is he doing?” Belle asked.

“He’s buying potatoes,” Henry said.

“Royals don’t buy their own food.”

“It appears he does,” Jefferson squinted then set Henry down. He scoffed, “Of course he goes to Leopold.”

“He brought Mary with him today, didn’t he?”

“Yes, he did,” Jefferson shrugged and led Henry back to their stand. With a final glance back, Belle followed them. Belle sunk onto the bench and arranged the vegetables that lay in front of them. “We won’t sell much today. Not when the prince has bought from Leopold.”

That prediction proved true. No one stopped at their stand.

Eventually, they did glimpse the prince. He walked around the square with Mary. He was surely a handsome prince, but he didn’t look much like his father. He was taller, thicker, his nose was straighter, but when she saw him smile Belle was sure. It was the same devious, yet still amused expression that she’d seen on his father only a few times. The prince gave his smiles more generously.

Though the prince was very attractive, Mary didn’t seem to be paying much attention to him as they passed the Chambers’ booth. David stood watching them, his eyes glued to Mary.

Mary and the prince passed Belle’s table and Mary gave her a small nod. They hadn’t been very close, but as she was Emma’s childhood friend, Belle had grown up knowing her. The prince didn’t seem to see.

The excitement died down once the prince had left the square. He’d kissed Mary’s hand and gave a bow before showing himself to his carriage.

“I suppose we should be going,” Jefferson was beginning to pack up their load. He watched Henry running about with a girl and Belle searched the market for Gaston. He hadn’t been seen since the morning.

“Did you see Gaston at all today?”

Jefferson paused and thought, “No, I don’t think I have. He better come soon. I’m not waiting here for him.”

“We can’t just leave him.”

“He’s a grown man, Belle. He knows the way back.” He slung the bundle over his shoulder and waited for her to stand. Henry followed even more unwillingly.

This time, without Gaston, the walk back was pleasant, full of laughter and conversation. When they arrived, Henry ran at full speed into the house to share the news with Emma. When Jefferson and Belle entered, Henry was already halfway through his tale.

“He was walking around with Mary White and he walked right past us!”

“Wow, that is exciting.” Emma was rocking Grace who was fussing in her arms.

“How’s Papa?” Belle asked, shrugging off her cloak.

“Sleeping,” her expression fell as Jefferson dropped the heavy bundle of their unsold food. “People weren’t in a buying mood today?”

“Not with the prince in town,” Jefferson kissed her and then Grace, “I’m afraid we didn’t make much today.”

No one expressed what they knew because Henry was still bouncing around the room, blissfully unaware that without money from the market, Belle and her father were likely to starve this winter. Belle was sure she could make it through, but with their father’s failing health, any help Emma and Jefferson could offer might not be enough.

The door opened and if the room wasn’t silent enough, it went even quieter. Gaston appeared in the door, looking as if he was going to sneak in. He saw the crowded room and froze.

“Where did you go off to?” Belle asked, breaking the silence.

“Uh…nowhere.”

He closed the door and tried to embrace Belle. She shrugged him off, “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing, I just went for a walk.”

He was lying. It was obvious. She was tired of him. Ever since her encounter with the king, she’d been growing more and more impatient with him. She noticed every small flaw he had, every annoying habit and she was growing from mild discontent to hatred.

“Emma, when did you say you were going home?” Belle asked.

“Not for another two days.”

“Will you watch Papa tonight?”

“Um…sure.”

“Thank you,” Belle turned back to Gaston, “I think I’ll go for a walk myself.”

She knew where she would go. Hopefully, she would be welcomed. He had said his doors were open to her, which she hoped could mean tonight. Perhaps a night with the king would put her in a better mood.

No one moved to stop her, but she halted on her own when she opened the door. Two men in royal uniforms were making their way up the path toward her. Seeing her, they paused, bowing. “Is this the Frenier residence?”

“It is,” Gaston had come up behind her and was watching.

“Is Miss Isabelle Frenier at home?”

“She is,” Gaston again answered to her. Belle closed her fists around her dress as her anger flared at him.

“I am she.”

“His majesty requests your immediate company.”

“Does he?” Belle didn’t bother to suppress her smile, wanting Gaston to see the pleasure she got from it.

“Yes, madam,” he held out his hand to her to the carriage, but she shook her head.

“I’ll walk.”

The two guards looked at each other, before looking back at her. The one to the left had yet to say anything, but he spoke as Belle continued toward them, “Madam, he is eager for your presence.”

“He can wait.”

The man’s eyes widened, “His majesty doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

“Well he’s going to have to,” Belle passed them and they hurried to follow. “I was just on my way out and I will see him when I’m done.”

“Madam—”

“Tell him that I will be there before nightfall.”

She left them staring after her and as she walked back down the familiar path, feeling for the first time in her life she had some control over what she did. She wasn’t sure what exactly had brought that on. Normally, she would have dreaded the long walk to the palace and would have welcomed the carriage. Gaston’s behavior had doubtlessly contributed to her mood. He suffocated her with only his eyes. Belle was tired of trying to please everyone around her.

Today, however, she felt defiant. She wanted to see the king, but it would not be on his account. It would be because she wanted to see him not because he’d called for her.

The royal carriage passed her only a few seconds after she’d started walking. The way the two men looked at her gave her pause. If the king really did not like to be kept waiting, she hoped she didn’t anger him too greatly. She still did want to see him tonight.

Though the walk was long, it didn’t seem to give her enough time to calm down. With each step, she replayed the last few minutes with Gaston. It just made her angrier. He didn’t see her as a person, he didn’t see her as anything other than his future possession. If she were to marry him, she would no longer be able to think for herself.

Belle froze in the middle of the path. If? When had it become ‘if she married him’? When had she started questioning her marriage to him?

Shaking her head, she started walking again. It wasn’t up for debate. She would marry him. She didn’t have to be happy about it, but it would happen. She would marry him to give her and her father the best chance at life.

It was sunset by the time she came to the palace gates. She was obviously expected; when she entered, she wasn’t stopped; she didn’t even receive any sideways glances. Again, when she entered the long corridors, she felt extremely plain—more so than her previous visits. The dress she wore was her oldest dress. It was faded and she used it only to clean and work.

“Could you tell me where I could find his Majesty?” she asked, stopping in front of the nearest guard.

“Of course, Miss, he is in the dining room.” He gestured down the hall, “Turn right and it’s the door at the end.”

“Thank you,” she said with a nod.

The room was easy enough to find. Once she was at the door, she paused and took a breath. She needed to be in a good mood to face him, in case he was cross with her. She took another step and the two guards stationed outside let her in.

The king sat in a chair facing the door. He had a goblet in his hand and sipped it when the doors closed behind her. He said nothing, only watched her with intense eyes.

“Have I angered you terribly?” she asked when he said nothing.

His lips twitched and he set the goblet on the table, “I was just sitting down to dinner. Join me.” He gestured to the chair next to him, but she took the seat next to it, leaving an empty space between them. He watched her carefully. The game she was playing was dangerous. He could have her executed if he wished and she was risking it on account of her stubbornness.

“Dear, am I that hideous for you to refuse to sit by me?”

“I like this chair,” she reached for her own goblet and sipped at the wine innocently.

With narrow eyes, he nodded and rang a bell that rested on the table next to him. Immediately, doors behind them were opened and soon the entire table was decorated with food. Belle eyed it hungrily, but waited until the king started to fill his plate.

“So,” he said. He was done dishing his plate and he watched her as she filled her own. “How was your walk?”

“Very pleasant. Thank you.”

They looked at each other for a long moment. She worried what he might be thinking, if she’d pushed too hard, but he smiled and turned his attention to his plate. “Good.”

As they ate, he looked up a few more times. When she caught his eye, she realized he hadn’t been angry, only confused—perhaps a hint of amusement was there as well. He was king. And as king, she knew he mustn’t have been spoken to in such a manner with any frequency. Why she was doing it was a mystery to him, but at least he allowed it.

She hadn’t noticed just how hungry she’d been until her plate was empty when his still had most of the food left. He noticed her eyeing the bread plate. “Please, have more if you’d like. There’s plenty.”

“I was just wondering—my father…”

“Ah,” he took a bite of his steak and nodded, “I’ll have a plate prepared for him.”

“Thank you,” she said smiling. Unable to resist, she reached out and took another bit of bread.

The king set his fork down and leaned back. His eyes scanned her. “When are you expected home?”

They both knew the answer she gave would determine how the night went. If she said she was expected tonight, she would have to leave now. If she said she wasn’t expected until tomorrow, she would be able to stay a few hours. Belle hadn’t actually told her family when to expect her back and the decision was hers. She set the bread down and swallowed, “Not until tomorrow.”

His face brightened only a little, his cool expression still firmly in place as he stood and held out his hand to her, “Care to join me?”

“I would love to.” She took his hand and stood. She was a bit relieved that he would still have her tonight. Had he not been amused by her, this night would have gone very different.

When it looked like they were going back up the stairs to his bedroom, she almost made a comment about his knee, but she thought he might not be as good humored about that. He fared better on the stairs than he had last time and she was glad she bit her tongue.

He surprised her when they were safely locked in his room. It wasn’t slow; it wasn’t controlled. Once the door was closed, he had her pressed against the door. His hands tangled in her hair and his lips moving against hers urgently.

She could barely breath, he crushed her so tightly. The only thing she could hear was him, his desperate gasping, his quiet moaning against her mouth. Even as his hands reached to undo her bodice, he never let her go to breathe.

Finally, she had to pull away. He was reluctant to move, but he conceded and focused his attention on plucking at the strings at her breast. When he finally let it drop, he pulled her to the bed, tugging her skirts down before he tried to ease her down on the bed.

Belle didn’t sit, but slid her hands under his cloak. He helped her to remove the more constraining items he was wearing. After they’d been discarded, he tried again to lower her to the bed. This time, she let him. But she pulled his shoulders down with her so he half knelt on the bed, half crouched on the floor.

Pain crossed his features as he tried to arrange himself into a less painful position. She moved back on the bed, trying to let him get better footing, but he still looked uncomfortable when he removed her final item of clothing.

He seemed determined to lie on top of her, but even he had said it before: it would leave him strained if he stayed in that position.

As he leaned up to remove his undershirt, Belle lifted herself under him. She put a hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him to the mattress. When she straddled him, he watched her with a confused look.

“Belle, I don’t usually—” she slipped his shirt over his head, making him pause. Once it was off him, he ran a hand through is hair, “I’m not—”

“Your knee,” she said, kissing him mid-sentence. She knew what he was going to say. She wasn’t going to let him say it. There was a certain power he got when he was over her. He was used to having power. It was like it physically hurt him to lie beneath her.

Gaston liked power as well. What he’d said still resonated with her and she was still caught in her rebellious mood. Dinner had proved he would indulge her at least to a point. Now, it didn’t look like he was pleased about it, but as she kept her lips to his skin, he didn’t protest. He even put a hand in her hair when she kissed his chest.

His muscles were tense and the lower her lips traveled over his ribs, the more she could feel his hardness pressing into her stomach. She didn’t go any lower than his navel. His hand had strayed from her hair down her back, and that was as much as he touched her before he stilled her hips with his hand and guided himself inside her.

Her breath caught as it did before. Would it ever stop feeling like such a surprise? Would she ever be prepared for him when he entered her? At least now, nothing in her gave resistance to him, there was no small wall to break through. He left only a pleasant kind of pressure, pulsing inside her. .

Her heart was fluttering around him and below her, he was watching her, waiting for her to do anything. That was when she realized she had no idea what it was she should be doing. Before, he’d done everything. He’d moved perfectly so he would please both of them. Emma had said it would be better, but if she didn’t know what she was doing, Belle could ruin this entire night. For both of them.

“Last time,” she found herself speaking, unable to do anything else, “You wanted me to tell you something.”

He blinked a few times, wondering why she was stopping for conversation. “It, uh, doesn’t matter now.”

“What was it?”

Swallowing, his hips rocked the tiniest bit as if he couldn’t keep them still, “If I was pleasing you.”

“You were,” she said, smiling.

“That’s what I hoped.”

“…I’m sorry, I talk when I get nervous and I don’t—”

“Nervous? Why?”

“I, uh,” she didn’t know what else she could do other than kiss him. It took a bit of awkwardly shifting, as they remained joined, and when he realized what she wanted, he grinned into her kiss, but she managed to lie beneath him.

He was pulling from her, rubbing himself against the soft, sensitive skin. It was so easy when he pushed back in. She could feel herself tightening and it amazed her he could slide his way in with barely any effort.

Somehow, he was pushing even deeper after slowly sliding out again, “Belle, do I please you?”

It was shameful what he could do to her body within two seconds. Just moments ago, she couldn’t stop speaking. Every word evaded her now. All she could do was nod and give a quiet, sobbing sound. He had told her she could be loud, but when she opened her mouth, the noises she made were like a wounded animal crying for its life. It embarrassed her and she kept her mouth closed as much as she could.

That small noise seemed enough to urge him into faster movements. He was kissing her neck, biting her hard enough to leave a mark each time he had to withdraw from her. Each of his inward movements drove her back into the bed and she had to wrap her legs around him to keep from knocking into the headboard.

With only one small graze somewhere inside her, she was even more breathless, if possible. She nodded into his neck, clinging to him, telling him that was right. How could he ever wonder if he pleased her. There had never been anything in her life that had pleased her more. This man who told her she was beautiful, this man who allowed her to toy with him was giving her more than she’d ever dreamed.

Then, it was happening. She was tensing, her stomach tight and her limbs locking around him. Every muscle she had trembled and seemed to send shivers to where he joined with her. She barely had time to brace herself for the erupting wave that sent her arching into his chest.

With a delayed groan, he followed her. She felt his release spreading inside her, filling her with pure heat. Still, he kept moving, kept touching and kissing, keeping her body alive for as long as he could. It went on for an eternity, until finally he slowed then stilled all together.

Even with his weight on top of her, she could breathe easily enough. She let her arms go limp around his neck and her legs fell from him to the mattress. There was dull, radiating warmth coming off him as he rested comfortably inside her. His breathing was loud against her neck and it soothed her even further. Sleep was pulling at her and she leaned her head back on the pillows.

Then, he pulled away from her. The emptiness he left waking her enough leave her blinking. He was still breathing hard and he licked his lips before closing his eyes.

She shouldn’t fall asleep. She should get dressed and be going, but exhaustion kept her from moving. Next to her, he stirred and she forced her eyes open again. He was leaning across the bed. Just as she was raising herself up, using all her strength to keep awake, he blew out the candle and lay back down.

He smiled at her and kissed her. “Sleep,” he murmured sleepily.

Under all of the blankets, she was burning. His warmth had been comfortable just moments ago, but now, it was a thick heat that enveloped her. It was bearable though, and she was too tired and too comfortable to move. She’d never been in a bed like this one with more than a thin blanket and a flat cushion for her head. She hugged the blankets around her, barely noticing the warmth as she drifted into sleep.

Her dreams were hazy. They were memories of what had happened earlier both with Gaston and the king mixed with her own imagination. When she awoke, she had to think for a moment to distinguish what had been reality.

It didn’t take long to remember where she was. The large pillow under her head, the warm blanket over her naked body, the only sound in the room was the man breathing slowly beside her. They all reminded her immediately she wasn’t at home sharing her room with her nephew.

She rolled onto her other side to look at the king—William? She wasn’t sure what exactly to call him—was lying on his stomach, his hands buried underneath the massive pile of pillows and his face hidden in the one directly under his head.

Tentatively, she reached out and pushed his hair back. There was grey in it and it streaked his temples and turned his sideburns almost completely white. She didn’t know exactly how old he was, but she supposed it some of it must be from stress; it would be stressful to have to run a country.

When her fingers ran through his hair, his eye opened.

“Mm,” he mumbled.

Smiling, she kept touching his hair and he squeezed his eyes shut again. “No. Sleep,” he said into the pillow. He sounded like Henry when he was forced to awaken before he was ready.

Belle moved closer to him, still stroking his hair. She pressed her lips to his shoulder and he sighed, flipping onto his back. “Why must I surround myself with people who love morning?”

“Do you want me to go?”

“No,” he grabbed her arm when she made a move to go and yanked her back to him. His arms stayed firmly around her, locking her to him. But after a few minutes, he loosened and when Belle looked at him, she saw he’d fallen back asleep.

Resting her head on his chest, she traced circles on his ribs and stomach, slowly making her way down, pushing the blanket to his hips to allow her more. She traced the thin trail of hair trailing down from his navel.

“You could have come earlier,” he said, making her jump. He stroked her hair in apology.

“I know…It’s been busy these past few weeks.”

“Ah,” he threw the blankets back and stood. For a second she worried she’d offended him.

“If it makes you feel better…my walk… I was on my way here.”

He reached a table by the door where a pitcher stood. He smirked at her as he poured two glasses, “Were you now?”

He was wanting a response from her, some kind of compliment to fuel his pride. So she said nothing, but smiled at him as he handed her a cup. She sat up, holding the blanket to cover her. The king might have been comfortable with his nudity, but she felt a silly modest come over her. Now that night was gone and morning brightened the room, it felt indecent to be so bare.

Accepting that she wasn’t going to respond to his remark, he sat on the bed next to her and took a sip of his own water.

She swished the liquid around in her mouth, trying to erase the taste of sleep. It would do until she could get home and clean her mouth more thoroughly.

“Your father is alright?”

She swallowed, “He’s not getting worse. But I worry about him.”

“I’m sorry,” he took her hand and she smiled sadly.

“I’m not sure he’ll make it to spring.”

“When you will be married…”

The idea seemed to hold no more happiness for him than it did for Belle. He tried not to let her see it, but it was too late. They silently sipped their water and she was beginning to be uncomfortable with the silence.

“What was your son doing in the market yesterday?”

His eyebrows drew together, “The market?”

“Yes. I saw him buying potatoes.”

“I wouldn’t know,” he set down his cup and took hers. “He told me he was out on a hunt. “

“It’s a strange thing to lie about.”

“It is indeed,” he said and pulled the covers back to lie down again.

“He has your smile,” she said when he’d settled. He gave her a skeptical look.

“That would be the only thing…beside my country once I’ve died.”

“Is he just as cynical as you are?”

He shook his head, “Believe me when I say he is nothing like me. He is his mother’s son.”

“How old is he?” It was a seemingly random question, but it might give her some clue as to how old her new lover was.

“Twenty nine,” he said simply.

“Oh,” she bit her lip. Age didn’t matter much to her; she had friends who had married men twice their age. But his son was even years older than her. It made her feel too young, too inexperienced

“What makes you ask?”

“Just wondering.”

“Mm,” he leaned into her and pressed a kiss to her jaw, “Should I call for breakfast?”

It was tempting to stay. She was ravenous after their eventful night, but she knew she had to get home. Emma would have her hands full with Grace, Henry, and her father. “I would love to, but I should be going. Maybe next time?”

“Certainly next time.”


	4. Chapter 4

Belle took the small bag of food with a grateful smile. It wasn’t anything much, just some meat and bread, but she took it as if it had been the Holy Grail.

“Thank you,” she said and looked as if she might kiss him. But with a look down the hall, she bit her lip and curtsied, before slipping out the door.

The door was barely closed behind Belle when his advisor was walking up to him with Bay at his side. “Your majesty?”

“What is it?”

“Father, we have a situation.”

“What kind of situation?”

“We found someone.”

“Bay,” he sighed. Last night he hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep to decipher what his son was trying to tell him. “Just tell me what it is.”

“We’ve found someone in a northern uniform,” Bay clarified.

William may have been sleep deprived, but he was not stupid. He knew the significance of that. Nodding, he stepped forward, “Take me to him.”

“He’s in the stables.”

His leg throbbed the entire way there and when he entered the stables, he leaned against a post. The man had a black cloth sack over his head and had his hands tied behind him.

“Take the hood off him,” William said and his son obeyed.

He looked like he’d already been through some questioning with his teeth bloodied and his bottom lip split down the middle. “You’re a general?” he said, noting the etchings in his leather belt.

“Piss off, cripple,” the man spat out.

Had William been in a better mood, he would have let that slide, but as it was, he was not in a better mood. The head of his cane connected with the man’s nose. He gave a gurgled yell and fell back onto the hay.

“You’re in my kingdom now, boy,” he said, watching his son pull the man back to a sitting position, “Best start learning some manners.”

When the man was silent, William continued, “Your name.”

The man only looked at him, a bit of fear behind his eyes, but not enough for William to get the information he needed.

“It’s good manners to answer when you’re asked a question,” he said, his cane connecting again, this time on the side of his face. Bay was there to keep him sitting upright. For good measure, he whacked his cane against him again.

“Your name.”

“Graham Rogers,” the man said quietly

“Graham, you’re no general.” William could tell as much. His hair was unkempt, and his uniform too tattered to have the money of a general, “Where did you get the marks?”

Before he answered, he spit out a dark red wad and licked his lips, “The queen gave them to me.”

“Ah, the queen. You know her personally then?”

Graham immediately realized his mistake, fear—true fear— flashing behind his eyes. William smiled, “You’re going to tell me everything I need to know about Her Majesty. Do you understand?”

This time, William barely had to raise his cane before Graham consented.

“Good boy,” he lowered his cane and sighed. “You aren’t a general…you aren’t even a soldier are you?”

“No.”

It wasn’t a surprise. The boy may have been toughened by the military, but he still had all the signs of a poor boy. He didn’t look William in the eye; he kept his head bowed when he wasn’t speaking. William also knew how the Northern Kingdom treated their peasants. It would be anything but difficult to sway him.

“I’ll make you deal.”

Graham looked up at the words, but still held a little suspicion.

“You answer me what I ask, honestly, I’ll let you go.”

“…you’ll let me go?”

“I will. You’ll have free roam of my kingdom. Anywhere.”

“Deal,” he said, nodding eagerly.

“Alright. Tell me Regina’s plans.”

***

What Graham told him was more than William had learned in the past five years. The Northern Queen was planning on moving her armies south within the month. William would be ready and drive them back. An otherwise devastating attack would be avoided.

“Bay, see if you can’t get Graham some kind of reward,” William said as his son untied their prisoner. He nodded and quickly left the barn. “Now, you told me the truth.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“Because if you didn’t, I would be able to find you. And I would kill you.”

“Then I guess it’s a good I didn’t lie.”

“Indeed,” William watched Graham struggle to his feet. His nose was bleeding and a bruise was forming on his cheek, but he could be worse.

The silence between them lasted a few minutes until Bay returned. When he did, he handed William a small bag. He opened it and took out a handful of gold coins. Graham was watching closely and when William held the coins out to him, he didn’t move to take them.

“You can take it or not take it, but I want you gone in the next ten seconds.”

After one last hesitating glance at him, Graham snatched the coins and ran from the stables.

“Father, I believe you’ve gone a bit soft,” Bay said, watching after the man.

“I’m tired today,” he ran a hand through his hair and turned back from the barn.

“Didn’t get a good night’s sleep?” There was a hint of something in his son’s voice and William was too tired to spare his son the knowledge.

“She wakes earlier than you.”

His son snorted, “I’m surprised you don’t throw her out like every other woman.”

“I was tired,” he murmured.

“You were right,” Bay said as he waited on the stairs for his father. “She is beautiful.”

William paused, “You saw her?”

“Yes, I went to the town market yesterday after the hunt.”

“You were checking up on me?” William asked, a bit annoyed at his son’s actions.

“No,” Bay said. He heard William’s tone, but chose to ignore it. They continued walking to the house and William listened to his son attentively, unsure if he cared for his son’s approval or not. He didn’t, he decided. Bay told him nothing of his romantic entanglements. William felt no need to share his. “We were next to the square and I wanted to stop by.”

“To check up on me.”

“To see this ultimate beauty.”

“Hm,” he grunted.

“I would have to say, she is the fairest in the kingdom,” he said, “And very strong willed.”

“What do you know if she’s ‘strong willed’ or not?”

Hesitating at the door, he tapped the brass doorknob, “…I spoke with her.”

“About?”

“Nothing. I…you’ve been a bit different since she’s been here and I wanted to see what this girl was like.”

“What did you speak to her of?”

“Her family, mostly,” he said, with a reassuring smile and he opened the door.

“Was her fiancé there?”

“Her fiancé? No, she said nothing of a fiancé,” he stood in the doorway as William pushed past into the entryway. “She’s engaged?”

“She is.”

“And you have no problem with that?”

“He was the one who sent her to me,” he said and stopped at the bottom stair. The small purse of coins still rested in his hands and he jingled them, “Bay, have this delivered to the Frenier home. Now.”

Though he gave a confused look, he took it without question, leaving William on his own. He decided against going back up the stairs to his bedroom and rested in the back room.

It was where he’d first taken Belle and he smiled as he sat on the bed to take his shoes off. Their first night here hadn’t been terribly awful, but he was gl

ad that she had become more comfortable with him.

Not long after he’d laid down, he’d fallen asleep and he didn’t wake until he was shaken.

“What?” He opened his eyes and saw his son standing over him.

“Are you ever planning to crawl out from your cave? You do have stately duties,” he said.

“I did my duties this morning. With the prisoner.”

“Father, you’re king. Your duties never end.”

Bay was right. Even if William didn’t like it, he was king twenty four hours every day. He sat up and ran his fingers through his sleep-ruffled hair. “What is it?”

“You’ve gotten a letter,” Bay said, holding out a sealed parchment.

“Who’s it from?” William asked as he snatched it from his son.

“We’re not sure. It was delivered through about 20 different messengers,” Bay sat down and watched as William broke the seal, “There’s no way to track it.”

The handwriting wasn’t from anyone he recognized, but as soon as he’d read the first line, he knew.

‘William, you’ve taken one of my men. I want him back.’

“Regina,” William said, laughing once.

“Regina? What does it say?”

“A moment, I can’t read the entire letter in two seconds,” William said and continued studying the letter.

It really said nothing else. She threatened him a few times, called for her man back every other sentence, then with another threat, concluded the letter. “She thinks I’ve taken her man hostage.”

“Well…we did…”

“He was trespassing,” William said simply, turning the letter over to see if there’d been anything written there. It was blank. “She thinks we still have him.”

“So he didn’t go back?”

“Did you expect him to?”

“Well, I wondered.”

“You wonder about a lot of things, boy. Hand me my cane.”

Bay retrieved the cane from the wall and waited until his father had stood to speak, “No doubt she has some kind of evil scheme brewing.”

“Oh, yes. She told me exactly what she planned. If we don’t hand over her man ‘my kingdom will be crushed until our hearts are ground to dust’,” William read from the letter, “She’s always been a bit melodramatic, hasn’t she.”

“Melodramatic, yes. But she usually follows through. What are we going to do?”

Pausing, he licked his lips, “Tell Cook to get dinner ready, we’ll discuss it then.”

“Father, I’m not your errand boy.”

The look on his son’s face made William smile, and he tapped his cheek, “No, of course not. Make sure you call Archibald, Phillip and Pierson. And anyone else who could be of assistance.”

With a roll of his eyes, Bay exited the room and William only had to wait fifteen or so minutes to be summoned to the dining hall.

When he entered, the room was quiet, Archibald had his nose buried in the note and the other men sat with their hands folded under the table. When he entered, all except Archibald stood and he gestured them to sit as he pulled his chair out. The food was dished out and when they’d all had their food on their plates, William addressed them.

“You’ve all read it?” William asked, taking a sip of wine.

Each man nodded and Archibald looked up, “Your majesty, where is this man now?”

“Gone.”

“Gone? Gone where?”

“Father let him go,” Bay said, a slight accusatory edge to his voice.

“Yes, I did,” William took no notice of his son’s tone, “I made a deal with him and I let him go when he gave me what I wanted.”

“What did you want?” Phillip asked.

“Information. On Regina.”

“Was the information good?” Pierson asked.

“Very. He gave us all her plans for the next year, where her army is weakest, everything,” William said.

“I’m confused,” Archibald set down the letter and retrieved his spoon, “She doesn’t seem to be worried you have one of her men. Angry, but not worried.”

William shrugged, “Perhaps she gives her trust too freely.”

“Yes, but what are we going to do about it?” Bay asked. “If we don’t return him, she could attack early. Everything he told us would be worthless.”

Phillip had sat back in his chair, his plate still half full; he was never one to eat much. He crossed his arms over his chest, “You do, at least, know where he’s gone to?”

“No, we don’t,” Bay said. Again he was snide and William snapped at him.

“Bay, if you’ve lost all faith in me, you are more than welcome to leave.” He met his eyes and didn’t look away until Bay shook his head. “No, we don’t know where he is, but we don’t need to. I will set up a private negotiation—”

Around him, the men stood, staring at the door behind him. William turned and scrambled to his feet when he saw Belle standing in the doorway. The expression on her face wasn’t easily read, but he knew she wasn’t expecting to see a room full of men.

“Who is this?” Bay asked the guard who’d let her in, “Please escort her out.”

“No, Bay it’s alright.” He was slow as he limped over to her; it was long enough to let him see that she was not happy. Her lips were thin and her eyes watched him sternly. She tried to hide it, but she was very transparent, “Belle, what is it?”

“May I speak with you, privately?” she whispered.

“Uh, yes,” he turned back to the table. Each man was still standing, staring at him with a perplexed look. Bay looked especially confused and more than a bit annoyed. “If you gentlemen will excuse me a moment.”

With his hand on her back, he led her into the kitchen, shooing the servants from their work. Immediately, she pulled out a small, familiar coin purse.

“What is this?”

“It appears to be a small purse.”

“It’s money. Your money.”

“No, dear, I gave it to you. It’s your money now.”

“I don’t want your money,” she slammed the bag on the butcher block.

“And why is that?”

“You can’t pay me to fill your bed.”

“Oh, is that what you think this is about?”

“What else would it be about?” she snapped. She was trying to keep her voice low, but she was getting louder.

“You won’t let me pay you, but you’ll let your father and your fiancé sell you to me? Perhaps I’ll go straight to them to purchase you.”

That had been the wrong thing to say. He thought she would take it with a bit of amusement, but the look on her face made him think he was about to be slapped.

Her jaw clamped together and she opened her mouth as if to speak. But she only shook her head before turning from the room.

“Belle,” he called and started after her. She was storming through the dining hall and he would never reach her with his leg. William gestured to his son to catch her. Bay jumped up and had her by the arm by the time they were just outside the door. He was able to hold on to her long enough for William to grab her himself.

“Belle, I didn’t mean—”

“You bastard,” she ripped her arm from him.

“Miss, this is your king you speak to,” Bay warned.

“This does not concern you, Bay” William said.

“You know her? Who is this?”

“Do you have the memory of a fish, boy? This is Belle.”

They were eyeing each other, Belle still looking quite angry.

“Am I supposed to know her?”

“You spoke with her at the market.”

“We’ve never met,” Belle said, sounding a bit disgusted by the thought of knowing him. His son noticed it as well and gave her a look.

“Bay, this is between us. Finish your dinner.”

“Wait, this is the girl,” he looked her over, rubbing his chin, “Well, I see the appeal.”

“You’ll be wanting some as well? Well, my price has doubled,” she snapped and tried to turn again.

But Bay, never one to have a person mad at him, grabbed her again. “Miss, have I done something to offend you?”

Ignoring him, she continued her tirade at William, “Do you know how many men have propositioned me in the time it took to walk here? Twenty! I counted them. I am ruined. I am not your whore!”

With a final tug of her arm, she was free and again retreating from them.

Neither one of them moved, staring after her. She’d been gone more than a few minutes before Bay risked speaking. “She’s an… interesting girl.”

It only took a short second for William to know exactly what he needed to say. Belle was right about her reputation being ruined and he would fix it, “She has every right to be mad.”

“She has no right to speak to you that way.”

“Yes. She has. There have been rumors spoken of her.”

“Rumors that she is your whore?”

“The money was a wedding gift. No doubt people saw it as payment for her services. Services that aren’t even being provided,” William turned and when his son did not reply immediately, he knew he’d assumed correctly.

“I thought you told me—”

“I told you nothing. You said you didn’t want to hear.”

“You said she propositioned herself to you. What else was I supposed to think?”

“Exactly how many people did you tell, boy?”

Looking down, Bay swallowed, “A few courtiers.”

“You gossip more than your mother. At least that woman spread the damned truth,” he said, “You’ve ruined her over a lie, boy. I hope you’re proud.”

“Father, I’m sorry,” Bay said, pausing at the door, “I—I will fix it.”

“Good,” William said.

When they sat down at the table, it was silent. No one worked up the courage to ask about what they’d seen. William ate quickly and had his dinner finished first. He left Bay to tend the room.

“Sir,” he was stopped almost immediately as he left. He turned and saw his guard a few steps behind him. He bowed his head, “I must apologize. I thought she was—”

“Eric, don’t bother apologizing,” William said, “You were right to let her in.”

Eric let out a breath and smiled, “Thank you.”

William would have gone up to his room, but he wasn’t tired. There wasn’t really anything to do except sit and read for a few hours. After he’d sat in his chair, adjusted the cushion, pulled the footrest to him, and finally opening his book, he couldn’t seem to concentrate on the pages. Too many thoughts kept him from concentrating on the words. Regina was the biggest problem he would face; Belle would most likely not come to him until Bay spread word of her innocence.

Slamming the book shut, he sighed. He might as well write his reply to Regina. He sat at the desk and sighed, tapping his pen against the desk. The wording needed to be precise. There needed to be room for him to work, but something that couldn’t be used by her.

William couldn’t tell her he’d let the man go. She would want to know why and there wasn’t a lie he could come up with that had enough credibility. In her letter, she hadn’t called for the man by name, but he’d said they had known each other. No doubt she knew exactly which man was missing. That meant no decoy could be used.

Yawning, he set the quill down. He was finally getting tired. Perhaps if he slept a while, the words would come more easily.

***

A good night’s sleep did not help much. It took him three whole days just to get anything other than ‘Regina’ written on that letter. But eventually, he did manage to get everything he needed into words. After rereading it ten times, he finally called for Eric to deliver it.

“Make sure it gets there within the next day.”

Eric nodded and when he turned to the door, Bay was just entering.

“Bay, what brings you by in the middle of the day? Shouldn’t you be off gambling or watching bull fights or whatever you young people do?”

“I have just come back from court. You should be happy to know I’ve gotten word around,” he said with a large smile. “About Madam Belle.”

William appeased his son with an approving smile, “She should be glad to hear it.”

“I feel I should apologize to her,” Bay said. “I almost ruined her reputation with my lack of discretion…I feel awful about it.”

“And you should. Perhaps you’ve learned your lesson—”

“I have.”

“But you have fixed it and it will get around to her. You’ve no need to feel guilty any longer.”

Bay shifted his weight, looking a bit awkwardly at the painted walls, “So… nothing went on at all with her?”

“No,” William knew his son was only moments away from asking so he continued, “She offered herself to me. I took pity on her and requested her company instead of her body.”

“Father, you never want anyone’s company.”

“The company of a beautiful girl is never unwelcome.”

“And what is it you do all night? Braid her hair? Discuss fashion?”

“Read,” William answered, remembering Belle’s fascination with his books, “if you must know. Then sleep.”

“You sleep with her? You never sleep with any girl.”

“Bay, my bed has been empty for the past twenty nine years. There are times when you waking up with no one and it becomes lonely.”

Bay lowered his eyes, “I see.”

“I don’t think you do.” William started to the door, feeling the need to sit, “You need to find yourself a wife, boy. Then you might.”

Bay followed, “Why? A lot of good it did you.”

“It got me you.”

“Ah, yes. Your pride and joy. Your reason to wake up every morning—”

“Reason for my daily headaches.”

They’d come to the bottom of the grand staircase. “Would you like for me to carry you up, Father? Or can you manage?”

“I can manage, boy,” William said sharply.

Bay spoke before William could get any further up the stairs, “Before, you go up—would you be very opposed if I invited a guest to dinner?”

“Wasn’t it you who, just twelve seconds ago, pointed out I don’t like company.”

“She is already here. You might as well come and be polite.”

“She? Has your future wife finally graced us with her presence?”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to come and be social to find that out,” Bay said and turned on his heels, leaving William with no choice but to follow. As he approached the dining hall, he heard his son’s voice.

He entered just as he heard the familiar voice answer and saw Belle smiling at his son. When he tapped his cane on the marble floor, her eyes darted to him.

“Our dinner guest,” Bay said turning.

“I see.”

Belle was standing with her head slightly bowed and as he approached her, she glanced at him shyly.

“I expect Bay has set everything straight?”

“Yes, he has.”

“You’ve not been propositioned? You’re no longer ruined?”

“No.” Her smile hinted at something more when she nodded, “His majesty has fixed everything.”

“Good,” he said and pulled out the chair nearest him, “Will you sit?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Though it was not the seat at the head of the table, he took the seat on her right. She ate more slowly than she had at their last meal, taking breaks in between bites to speak or answer questions from Bay. Her responses were a still a bit reserved, but he was glad she was speaking. In the few months they’d known each other, she and William still hadn’t had a proper conversation. Their time was usually spent engaging in other activities.

Luckily, he found conversation with her to be enjoyable. It was true what his son said; he hated to converse with anyone. Belle, however, he could have listened to for hours. What she actually said mattered, she laughed quietly, and asked questions that made him think. It was more than he could say for most of the people he met.

After their plates had been cleared, they stayed at the table. Bay had more than a few glasses of wine and he was getting more and more slurred. Finally, William had to stop him.

“Son,” he said, standing, “I think it might be time to get you to bed.”

“Mm, Papa, are you going to come tuck me in?”

“You’re not a child anymore, boy.”

William helped him stumble to his feet and escorted him to the door.There, he left Bay in Eric’s care and closed the door again. Belle was watching from her seat and when he sat next to her, she laughed.

“I’m sorry about him,” William said. “His behavior was not appropriate.”

“It’s alright. He’s very amusing.”

“He will be mortified in the morning.”

She looked down at her lap, “Thank you…for having him fix everything. I’m not sure my family quite believed what he told, but I think others in town will.”

“It was the least I could do.”

“You didn’t have to lie to your son.”

“It was for his own good. He spreads lies quicker than the plague.”

“Still…”

“I really am sorry. The money—it was meant to…I was worried.”

Smiling, she took his hand, “Thank you.”

The kiss he gave her was meant to be soft, but as soon as he felt his lips on hers, he couldn’t seem to control his hands. It always seemed this way when he was with her, he could never control his body. He half expected her to resist when he grabbed her hips, but she slid into his chair without complaint.

“We should go somewhere a bit more private,” he said, running a hand down the front of her bodice. Breathlessly, she nodded, biting her lower lip.

Carefully, she stumbled back off his lap and pulled him up with her. Before they opened the door, he stole another kiss and had to tear his hands away from her.

They made their way through the halls, and when Belle made for the grand staircase, he pulled her past them. He needed her now and refused to take the time to climb those wretched stairs. A smile of realization spread across her lips as she saw where he led her.

Once inside, she didn’t let him pull her to him. She kept his hands in hers but stayed at arm’s length. It gave him enough time to lock the door. Belle watched him and she smirked, “Afraid I’m going to leave?”

“No,” he took her hand, pulling her close to him. Already he was stiffening for her and the press of her body against him helped speed the process. “But my son does have a habit of early morning visits. Unless you would rather sit and read all night…”

With a step closer to him, she hugged her arms around his waist and kissed him. He bit at her lips and tongue, careful not to clamp his teeth too hard. Within seconds, he found his hands working to undress her, not even having to look to untie the knots. The stiff material fell from her and immediately his hands were on her breasts, caressing and stroking through the thin cotton material.

Her hands strayed from his hair, trying to undo his clothing, but when he didn’t release her to assist with the task, her fingers stilled and she waited. He fingered the top hem of her skirts and slowly eased them off her. As he leaned down, his lips were forced away from hers. When he straightened up, Belle took the opportunity to finish her work on his vest.

Holding her wrists loosly while she untied him, he watched her. She looked calmer than he was and wondered if she had really wanted this when she came for dinner. His vest dropped to the floor. After playing with the silk of his shirt for a moment, her fingers started to unlace his pants.

She was careful not to brush the hard bulge between his legs, but when she started to slide them from his hips, she failed, brushing her fingers over him. William’s hips jerked forward shamelessly and he gripped her arms, stopping her from pushing his trousers the rest of the way down.

When she stood and took his hands, he more than eagerly followed her, stepping from his trousers. She sat on the mattress, but came to her knees when she was too short to reach his mouth. The camisole draped over her was too restrictive; it kept too much from him. Reaching for the bottom hem of her camisole, he grazed his fingers over her legs, pulling up the material with his hands.

Finally, her body was free of the thing and he was free to explore her. All of her. It had only been a few days since she was here last, but his body was responding like it had been deprived for years. The ache between his legs almost crippled both his knees. They needed to get to the bed, but the moment she tugged away the last of his clothing he moaned, the pleasantness of her hands outweighing any pain he felt.

Their bodies finally pressed flush together, her soft hands running up his spine. William pressed her back to the mattress.

When they pulled apart, she laid back and her eyes roamed over him. She hadn’t actually ever really looked at him, he realized. Not really without blankets or darkness hiding him. The first time, he’d shut out the light and the next time, he’d taken her without giving her a chance.

There was no hiding from her this time.

It wasn’t common that he felt ashamed of his body, but Belle was so much younger than him. His body was not that of a man her own age. His muscles weren’t as toned as they used to be. He even started to worry about the grey in his hair.

God, he was so much older than her. How did she ever find him desirable?

The issue of his knee didn’t help much—the ugly, jagged scar disfiguring the joint and an inch or two of his inner thigh. Belle’s eyes lingered there longer than anywhere else.

“Belle, I…”

She sat up and ran a hand through his hair, leaning over to kiss his cheek. Her lips were wet and she kissed her way down his neck. Why was it that anytime he was near her, he had to assure himself she was pleased? With any other girl, he hadn’t cared. His knee hadn’t bothered him; his age never even entered his mind. But with Belle…with Belle he worried he would never be good enough for her.

Even as she kissed and touched him, William worried she only did it to appease him. He took her hand, “Belle, if you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to.”

“Do you not want to?” Her hand was on his thigh and she glanced at his stiff appendage.

“I do, I just—I don’t want to force you.”

“You’re not.” With her other hand, she stroked his hair, “What is it?”

William shook his head, “I…Do I please you?”

She smiled a bit, “Why do you ask…again?”

“Tell me,” he said, trying to keep from sounding desperate.

“Yes,” she said, her tone very definite. “Very much.”

“All of me?”

Her sweet grin faltered a bit, changing into something a bit darker. Her eyes flicking again between his legs, she answered with a nod, “All of you.”

He nodded and sat for a moment. The throbbing between his legs was beginning to lessen, but he didn’t mind much. They’d already had a good night without bedding each other; he could be content to lie next to her until morning.

However, when Belle’s small fingers found him and he instantly filled to her touch. But she snatched her hand away and with a strained groan, he turned into her. He snaked a finger down her stomach and entered the place where only he had been, earning a rare, precious sound from her.

“You’re not going to insist you sit on top of me so I don’t strain myself?” he asked, trying to get some of his dignity back after such a pathetic show of emotion. He slid one more finger into her and pulled back to watch her as he stroked her inner walls.

Her eyes fluttered open at his question and she shook her head, “I don’t know how.”

With a bit more pressure from his fingers and another pleasant wince from her, he licked his lips, “Know how to what?”

“…you know…make it feel…”

“Like this?” he asked and dug his fingers deeper. She threw her head back, drawing her leg up further.

“Mm hm.”

“Well, it’s not too difficult,” he slipped his fingers from her, taking the wetness he’d been working with away on his fingers. He slipped them into his mouth as he lay back next to her. It had been too long since the taste of her had graced his tongue and the slick, sweetness made his mouth water.

When Belle looked at him, he gestured for her to come to him with the fingers he’d just tasted. There was a bit of hesitance in her as she sat up and he had to guide her over him. She looked a bit lost, holding none of the confidence she’d had last time she’d mounted him. The position she was in didn’t look very comfortable, her arms on either side of his torso and her knees straddling his hips.

“Just lower yourself on, dear,” he said when she lowered her head to look beneath her.

“I—I can’t.”

William didn’t know where this apprehension was coming from. Just moments ago, she’d been holding him and kissing him. Now she could barely look at him. “You had no problem touching before.”

“I know, but that was…” she hung her head again.

“Belle, what’s wrong?”

She didn’t answer, only shook her head. When she moved to get off him, he gripped her hips.

“Belle—”

“It’s not ladylike,” she spat and again tried to move away. He kept his hold on her, “My sister told me I was not behaving well and she’s right. You’re to have your way with me, the way you wish it.”

He laughed, “What?”

“My father has…expressed worries about me.”

“And what worries does he have?”

Sighing, she lowered her forehead to his chest, the rest of her body sinking to him as well. “He thinks Gaston is rethinking our engagement because of my behavior.”

“What is wrong with your behavior?”

“I’m not ladylike,” she whimpered and looked up at him with a distressed expression, “I’m working on it.”

“And this…” he rubbed the back of her thigh, “is this considered ladylike?”

Again, she struggled, but less than before. “If I’m not too brash. A lady doesn’t ask for pleasures in bed.”

William couldn’t help but smile. Her fiancé might not want her because of her ‘unladylike actions’ when she lay naked above another man? “You’re fiancé needs to get his worries prioritized. Your action suit me fine.”

She let out a relieved laugh as he pushed back her hair. “Really?”

“Mm, you’re a perfect lady.”

With a kiss to his chest, she shook her head, “You should tell that to Gaston.”

“Perhaps I will.”

“No!” she said, jerking her head up and he laughed, stroking her arm.

“Not serious. Now, shall we continue?” he asked, shifting his hips to rub the head of him into her. Her eyes closed and she nodded.

“Still do you think you could…” she pressed brushed the damp skin between her legs over his and he it distracted him enough not to comment. With one hand on her hips, he used his other to help slip into her, no longer wanting to speak.

Their breath hitched at the same moment. Her heat seeped into him, making it barely possible to think of anything. She gripped him tightly around his shoulders, her head hanging with her hair spilling over his chest.

When she didn’t move, he rubbed her arms letting his hands rest on her forearms.

“Just move,” he said, circling his thumb over the soft skin in her elbow.

It was a second before she did anything and he was about to give up and turn her. Then, suddenly, like her resolve had just struck her, she drew her hips away from him, sliding him out of her. Slowly, painfully slow, she lowered back onto him. Her fingers gripped his arms, his doing the same, trying to act as a brace when she repeated the slow, torturous motion again.

The more she moved, the more her face showed her pleasure. She bit her bottom lip and squeezed her eyes shut and he watched for each small movement, waiting to see the moment she would burst around him.

She kept working, longer and longer and his resolve was crumbling away. The slow movements were agony and soon his own hips were grinding upward when she sank down. She was still partially bent over him but her hands slipped from his arms, whether she meant to or not he wasn’t sure, but it left her against his chest again.

It wasn’t the most comfortable position for him, causing the connection inside to go to an awkward angle. Almost immediately, when she’d started to slowly drag her body against his, shots of pleasure jolted through him.

The skin on her back was damp and his hands fumbled a bit before he was finally able to hold her against him. With her head buried in his neck, the noises she made were even more audible, as if urging him to explode before she was ready.

She was close, he could tell, but he was already too far gone to think of stopping himself. His fingers dug in between them, her hips shifting a bit to allow him access. Her back, by comparison, was dry when he touched the hot, pink folds that engulfed him. His wetness combined with hers and he rubbed roughly anywhere he could reach her, spreading the mixture messily over both of them.

It was working. She sucked in loudly next to his ear, the muscles in her legs tightening and her knees clenched around his thighs. Then, the breath she’d held came out in short, chopped gasps against him. He rasped out her name, willing her over the edge before he lost his control.

And he felt her go, convulsing around him. His loud breathing drowned out any small sound she made as he finally succumbed to his body. Had she stopped rocking against him? He didn’t know if it was him that was moving enough for the both of them.

When his movements ceased at last, the only movement from Belle was the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Her hands were still extended past his head and her open mouth, pressed into his neck, breathed out hot air. She was silent save for the occasional little swallow.

As his breathing calmed enough, he slowly rolled her off to his side. Her eyes didn’t open, not even as he pulled his softened shaft from her. She snuggled into the pillow and he arranged the blankets over both of them, leaving a hand resting on her back.

A sleepy, mumbled sound from her assured him she wasn’t yet asleep and he rubbed his palm in slow circles. William wasn’t tired and he would watch her until he was.

There was truth to what he’d told his son. Tomorrow, she would be here when he woke.

Sometimes it was nice to have a warm bed.


	5. Chapter 5

Belle’s dreams had been vivid, but when she woke, the memory of them evaded her. She didn’t dwell on try to remember them, the comfort she was in was the only thoughts in her head. In her own bed, she was forced to huddle her legs together to keep underneath the blanket. Here, she was stretched to her fullest, one leg extended enough to have her shin pressed into warm skin.

The feel of him reminded her of the previous night. She tried not to feel too ashamed of her behavior—he had insisted she pleasure herself how she wanted—but Emma’s words had stayed with her.

Belle regretted ever having spoken to her sister about the issue. It hadn’t been something she’d intended to bring up, but when the opportunity arose, she thought Emma would have understood. Belle hadn’t expected to be scolded for her actions, but her sister was right.

He was not only a man, but the king as well. She had forced him to the bed in pursuit of her own fulfillment. She’d been mortified by her actions. He was the king and he hadn’t wanted it.

But now, as she lay there replaying the previous night, he had insisted she stay atop him. Had she been with Gaston, he would not have permitted it. Of that, she was positive. Perhaps it was all a matter of personal preference.

She’d thought him asleep, but she heard a rustling sound and when she opened her eyes, saw he reclined into his pillows, reading a book. Her hand rested on his stomach, under his own hand. His fingers moved over her knuckles in slow strokes, not to wake her.

As she curled his fingers under his, he looked up from his book, “Did you rest well?”

“Mm,” she nodded and pressed deeper into the pillow. “I always sleep well here.”

“Then, perhaps you should stay more often.”

“Oh…I—”

“Just a suggestion,” he said, pulling his hand away from hers and turn to retrieve a glass from the table. Looking at the book, he sipped at it.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” she assured him. She pushed herself up from the pillow and took the cup from him. With her other hand, she brushed her fingertips his chest and she seemed to recapture his attention. “My sister—she’s going back home tonight. I won’t be able to leave my father the whole night.”

“Of course not,” he said and took her hand in his again, kissing it.

Sipping from the water, she used it to clear the morning taste from her mouth. She was glad he always seemed to provide her with water; she would have kept her distance if he hadn’t. He looked at her when the water swished through her teeth and he smiled, looking amused. Wrinkling her nose at him, she moved the water quicker, making the noise louder, then swallowed.

He laughed once and looked back at his book.

Once she’d taken a few more sips for good measure, he took the cup from her and set it back in its place. She leaned over and peered at his book, “What is it you’re reading?”

He flipped it to show her the cover, which was plain brown save for a few gold imprinted words, “Military Strategies Through the Ages. It’s terribly exciting.”

There was a lack of enthusiasm in his voice as he turned back to his page. There was a large illustration across from a page of scrawled text. The scene was that of something from a nightmare. Men slashed at each other with bloodied blades, some dead lying under their feet with missing limbs and gaping wounds.

“Is that really what war is like?”

“No, this is much tamer.”

“It’s…worse?”

“Much.”

“How can it be worse?” Belle asked, a bit horrified.

“You can’t hear screaming through a drawing.”

“Oh, God,” she murmured, which made him close the book. He set it on his stomach below their hands, “You’ve been in a battle, like that?”

“Many times.”

“Is that where you were injured?” She glanced at his knee, where the blanket had bunched around to reveal the scarred skin there.

“Mm,” he said and pulled the material to cover him.

“What happened?” Belle asked, sitting to reveal his leg again. She reached out a hand to touch him, but he grabbed her wrist.

“Belle, don’t.”

“Why? It’s your battle wound, you should wear it with pride,” she slipped her hand away from his and touched his knee.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it that.” He looked uncomfortable with her hand there, but he didn’t stop her again. She placed her other hand over the scarred skin and rubbed a bit. Closing his eyes, he sighed and she continued rubbing him.

“You got it in battle, did you not?”

With another less content sigh, he opened his eyes and took her fingers from him. “It’s not something I’m proud of.”

“What happened?” she asked again, letting him hold her hands.

“I have not always been the king I am now.”

“I’ve never heard people criticize you.”

“Had you been here 30 years ago, you would have.”

There it was again. The feeling of being incredibly too young. She looked away, but he continued speaking, “The endless comparisons of ‘Charles, the noble, young soldier who shall lead this country to greatness’ to his cowardly younger brother, William.”

“You have a brother?”

“Had, dear. He died. In battle.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“He died because of me,” he said, after sucking in a sharp breath of air.

Unsure of what to say, Belle leaned back down next to him, her chin on his shoulder. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“But it is,” he said, as if it was a generally acknowledged fact. For a long moment, he stayed quiet and only spoke when she pressed a kiss to his jaw. “Bay was not a year old and I received a letter from my mother, saying my wife had ridden off with her lover and hadn’t been seen in a week. So I ran, leaving Charles to die. She had hired a nurse maid and returned within two days,” biting his lip, he looked lost in the memory, but he looked at her again and his tone tried to be lighter when he spoke, “My horse was shot and my own shield crushed my knee. So no. Not a battle wound. Just a reminder of what a coward I was.”

“You’re not a coward,” Belle sat up again, scooting down to better reach his knee. He had bent them and she pulled the sheet away again. Hesitantly, she pressed a soft kiss to the gnarled flesh. His leg tensed and she heard him swallow down a protest. She kissed him again and when she raised her eyes to him, he watched her with knitted eyebrows. “It’s not shameful to worry about your son.”

Again, she pressed her lips to his knee, nudging his other knee away with her nose so she could gain access to the inside of his leg. There, the scar hadn’t left the skin raised, but indented in a long, thin groove, which she kissed along until she came to the end.

Above her, his breath hitched and when she looked to him, her eyes first fell on the stiffening thing between his legs. Shyly, she bit her lip and glanced up at his face. He stared at her, mouth parted and fists clutching the bedding. He met her eyes and snapped his mouth together. Smiling, she pulled herself from his leg and pressed her lips to his. A broken moan escaped against her mouth and he rolled her over, straddling her.

Though he was more than ready, he didn’t push himself straight into her. He lay over her, only kissing her. His hands didn’t touch her, really. They stayed next to her shoulders, his thumb stroking her bare arm.

Then, putting his weight on one hand, he slipped his fingers under her knee, bringing it up to his hips. She raised her other one as well as he kissed her again, still not entering her. Where their hips met, she could feel the soft skin of his manhood grazing her, yet he only kissed her.

If he was happy just to touch, that was what she would do. Belle brushed her fingers through his hair, over the slight beard that had grown on his cheeks, and down the length of his windpipe and Adam’s apple. When he gave a quiet hum, it vibrated under her fingers.

He pulled back to breathe, his eyes were closed and he rubbed her hip. For a while, they stayed like that,holding each other. He seemed different—less hesitant in his gentleness, as if he finally able just to caress her instead of taking her as swiftly as he could.

Belle smiled at him when he opened his eyes and a small grin met her back. In the short time she’d been with him, she knew well enough he didn’t smile often. The edges of his eyes crinkled and she again fought off the feeling of her lacking age.

It was only when she shifted her legs a bit, her private skin drawing against his, did he clench his jaw and kiss her again, with more eagerness than before. The movement of his lips and tongue didn’t cease when he reach down and guided his hardness into her.

As soon as his hand was withdrawn, they were pressed fully together everywhere, save where he supported himself on his elbows.

The time they’d spent just touching was long over. He rocked his hips against her, slowly pulling almost entirely from her. He came back in with a soft grunt and she threw her head back as he hit where they’d both learned pleased her most.

His lips were on her jaw, kissing down her neck and lifted his chest from hers as one of his hands eased under her neck, lifting her head up from the pillow. The joints in her neck had locked and he had to pull her with a bit of force. Unsure of what he wanted, she opened her eyes and found his watching her.

With another thrust into her, her eyes squeezed tightly together and she knew her face was contorting in the most unattractive ways.

“Please don’t watch,” she breathed as he pulled out and she was finally able to speak.

“You watched me once, dear.” He had stilled, half out of her, and stroked her cheek. “Let see you.”

It was true. She had watched him once when she’d taken him in her hands, enthralled by how he’d reacted.

It was, she supposed, only fair. So she nodded and he pushed his hips down to meet hers. She chanced opening her eyes again, but it made her too aware of him. His gaze was so expectant and it was difficult to give herself over to the pleasure he tried to give.

She pressed her eyes together, trying not to picture him looking down at her. When he gave another strong plunge into her she winced, her body tensing, but not nearly enough to give her release. She felt his lips kiss her softly between her eyebrows, where her forehead creased with effort.

Her expressions weren’t something that Belle had thought of before, but now it was all that consumed her attention. In her hair, his thumb stroked her scalp in slow circles and his fingers massaged the back of her neck.

The speed at which he withdrew and entered her became faster, as if he sensed she was distracted. It elicited a few uncontrolled spams, but still, her ultimate pleasure evaded her.

Finally, she managed to conjure the image she needed. It was that night—the night she’d watched him. It was a bit fuzzy as it had been a few weeks ago, but it was clear enough. He had been slumped down, bracing his hands on the mattress. His eyes had been tight, like hers were now, his teeth tightly grinding together, then suddenly parting when she’d made her grip firmer.

The same man she saw was the man who caressed her now, the only man to ever touch her so intimately. She had brought him that pleasure and he was bringing it to her now. With that thought, she had started to whimper as she felt her release creeping through her.

A final dig into her and she felt it burst, her limbs shaking. Her back arched, involuntarily bucking her shoulders off the bed up to meet him, her head jerking from his grasp and into his shoulders. He stroked her hair a few times before pulling her face from him, cradling her head as he still moved within her, still watched her.

When he finally let her rest, she let her head sag back into his palm. Her lips were parted, mouth gaping open and when he’d had his fill of watching her, he took her bottom lip in his. She kissed him back, thankful he hadn’t spoken of what he’d seen.

His hardness didn’t soften inside her and she realized he hadn’t yet reached his own peak. As he began to move his hips again, his eyes finally closed. His movements were slow, but her body was sensitive and she tensed again as he moved.

He increased his speed, quickly enough so he all but pounding against her within moments. Each of his thrusts had her gasping and when he finally poured himself into her, she was breathless. His chest heaved against hers, but he supported himself enough to allow her the air she needed. Instead of releasing him, she hugged him closer, squeezing her legs around his thighs. Swallowing, he hung his head, resting his forehead against her collarbone.

Eventually, he winced and rolled off her, keeping his weight off his knee. She rubbed her hand down his thigh and rubbed his knee. With a deep breath, his fingers covered hers, stilling her hand.

“Breakfast,” he said, looking over at her. “You promised me breakfast.”

Wincing again as he stood from the bed, he pulled his robe from the chair sitting by the bed. It was only when he was covered that he limped, seizing his cane on the way, toward the door. He barely had to lean out when he spoke quietly. Belle couldn’t make out what he said.

She arranged the blanket back around her as he opened a large wardrobe and pulled from it a stack of white linen. He set it on the edge of the mattress and handed her what she saw was a sleeping gown.

It was cool, unlike the bedding she sat in, but it was fresh and crisp. “Thank you.”

He shrugged his over his shoulders and straightened it. “Now that my son is aware I’m awake, no doubt he’ll pay us a visit.”

“He might not be up yet…He did drink quite a lot.”

Laughing, he sat, “If you’d like to wash while food is being prepared, it’ just through there.”

“Do I need it?” she folded her arms across her chest.

With another short laugh, he shook his head, “No, but our activities do tend to leave a certain…scent.”

“Oh,” she said, her face starting to burn. Had she always returned home with their activities on her? She fell back into the pillows, covering her face in her hands. “Oh, God.”

Hot breath breezed over her ear as he chuckled and she looked at him, “You let me go home. With my sister and—my father.” She covered her face again, mortified at what her father might have thought. “Could they really…?”

“Smell me on you?” his nose was running along her neck again and she felt him smile, “More than likely.”

She felt his tongue snake out from his lips and she pushed him away, “I’m going to wash.”

“Might I join you?” he asked with a coy smile.

“No!” She couldn’t help but smile as she looked back at the mattress to see him lying on his side, eyebrows raised.

“Next time, then.”

Turning with a wave of indifference, she hurried into the washroom. It was an expensively decorated room, like every other room in the palace. A large basin sat in the center of the room with a towel laid over the side. It was empty, but there was a large steel pitcher, which filled the tub enough to wash.

There was a rough square of soap that left her skin soft. But when she used it in her hair, it left the strands dried and brittle. Frowning as she ran her hands through it, she emptied the basin just as there was a knock on the door.

“My son has brought breakfast,” sounded through the door.

Slipping on her night dress again, she opened it, “Has he?”

“Of course. Did I not tell you he would visit us?” he wrapped her hand around his arm as he led them to a small table where Bay stood.

“Miss Belle,” he greeted her, with a bow.

“Your highness,” she curtsied before taking the seat he’d pulled out for her.

“Please, dear, there’s no need for such formalities,” William said, sitting. It was the first time she’d let his name enter her thoughts instead of ‘the king’ or ‘his majesty’. The sound of it, even in her mind, was nice.

William dished her fruit from a bowl, then bread from the plate in front of her.

“Yes, my father’s right, Miss Belle. If he has welcomed you as a personal friend, then so shall I.”

“Bay, you do remember you already welcomed her last night.”

“Oh,” Bay paused, “I’m afraid last night is a bit hazy. Was that you we had dinner with?”

“Yes, it was,” Belle said, suppressing a giggle.

“Oh Lord,” Bay said dropping the bread back onto his plate. He took Belle’s free hand and kissed it. “My behavior is inexcusable. Forgive me, Miss Belle. It’s not how a man should behave in the presence of a lady.”

Next to her, William breathed out a quiet laugh, but he bit it back. Belle couldn’t help but blush when Bay noticed, “What’s so amusing father?”

“Hm? Oh, nothing,” he didn’t say more, but his smirk remained as he picked at his bread.

“I am sorry,” Bay said, turning back to Belle with an apologetic smile.

“It’s alright,” Belle assured him.

“You’re lucky she found you amusing, boy,” William said.

“I am.” Bay set his cup down, “Belle, did you have a pleasant night? My father’s company is not always…amiable in the morning.”

William snorted, “I am a joy to be around.”

“He was lovely this morning,” Belle said, suppressing another blush at the thought of what they’d done not even an hour ago.

“And has your mood stayed?” Bay asked, an eyebrow raised at his father.

William set down his bread and sighed. “What’s wrong?”

Bay hesitated, “…It’s the southern regiment. They have… grown restless.”

“And by restless, you mean?”

“They’ve abandoned their stations and have started marching for home.”

William sat quietly for a moment, chewing. Then, he nodded and looked at Belle, “Dear, I’m sorry to have to cut this morning short, but I—”

“Of course,” Belle said, standing.

“Bay, if you’ll leave us.” William stood with her, Bay followed next.

“Yes, Father.” He bowed to Belle before turning to leave.

By the time he’d closed the door, Belle was already gathering her dress from the floor. Hopefully Bay hadn’t noticed it lying in a heap. She wasn’t sure exactly what William had told him, but her carelessly discarded dress, she guessed, probably would not have fit the story.

“I apologize about him.”

“There’s no need. He already did that twice,” she said. When she wiggled her arms from the nightdress, she felt William’s hands on her waist. He slipped the fabric from her and tossed it on his bed.

Taking a step forward brought him flush against her. He pressed his lips to her shoulder. “About this morning. I had hoped for a bit more time alone.”

“I see,” Belle said a bit breathlessly when his arms wrapped around her, pressing her back into him. His body was already hard.

It amazed her how he always seemed to be so ready for her. They had already coupled twice. Belle didn’t think she would be able again so soon. She’d recovered a bit over breakfast, but even the thought of him inside her again made her feel weak.

Shaking her head, she stopped his hands from moving lower. “I don’t want to bathe again.”

He pressed his nose to her neck and breathed in, “You used my soap.”

“Is that not how one is to wash herself?”

He chuckled and sniffed her neck again, “You smell like me.”

She had to still his hands again, this time having to pry them from her body. Taking a step away from him, she smoothed out her camisole.

“Let me,” William said, reaching from behind to take it from her. Belle let him turn her, but she eyed him wearily. He was still aroused and when he met her eyes, he winked.

“Maybe I should,” Belle said.

“You don’t trust I can keep my hands to myself?” he said and gestured for her to raise her arms.

He did mostly keep to himself. His less than innocent touches were brief and his fingers were gone before she could scold him. When, finally, she was dressed, he stood back and admired his work.

“I could be a handmaid,” he smirked and touched her drying hair. “But I’ve never done a woman’s hair before. I’m afraid you’ll have to handle that.”

Smiling, Belle nodded and turned, looking for her hairpins. They were difficult to find, but she got enough of them to make herself presentable. While she sat in front of the mirror, William dressed behind her. She watched his reflection shrug off his night shirt and her hands paused, her attention too preoccupied with his nakedness.

He was still a bit aroused, but when he’d gotten his trousers on, he had softened enough not to bulge his pants. When he looked at her, she snapped her eyes back to her own reflection and continued to pin her hair back. She had been so concentrated on her task she hadn’t noticed him come behind her until he was right at her ear. His sudden appearance in the mirror made her jump.

“Are you sure you’re satisfied this morning?” he asked with his hands on her shoulders.

“Yes,” She turned her head to look at him, “I honestly don’t think I could…enjoy it fully. So soon.”

Narrowing his eyes, he raised the corner of his mouth, “Is that a challenge, milady?”

“No,” she assured him, with an uncertain laugh. “And you have duties to attend to.”

A pained groan escaped him and he stepped back to let her stand. “Yes, I do.”

“Are you ready?”

“To go face down a battalion of angry soldiers.” He forced a smile, “Always.”

As she interlaced her fingers with his, she led him to the door, “You’ll do great. You’re a good king. They’ll listen to you.”

He licked his lips and nodded, looking very uncertain, “If you say so.”

There was a knock on the door and immediately she dropped his hand. William opened the door and Bay greeted them.

“You’re ready?”

“It’s why we’re at the door,” William said, stepping into the hall.

“Good, the situation has gotten worse.”

“In the past ten minutes?”

“In the last hour, since the last messenger.”

“Alright, we’re coming.”

With a hand on the small of her back, they followed Bay outside where a royal carriage awaited. They rode in silence. Bay stared out his own window while William sat, staring at his hands resting in his lap.

When they stopped just outside her home, Belle was hesitant in stepping out. Many of her neighbors were outside, already staring at the carriage. William climbed out and Belle followed, keeping her eyes low. Once securely on the ground, she immediately released his hand.

“Belle,” he said, reaching into his pocket and fishing out the small coin purse. He pressed it into her hands and when she was about to object, he shook his head, “A wedding gift.”

“Alright,” she nodded, and quickly took her hand away from him. He bowed and she felt relieved he hadn’t kissed her—not that she should have thought he would. Inside, she could see Henry’s face, watching out the window. When she turned, he immediately ducked and, as she opened the door, he was nowhere in the room.

Emma sat next to the fireplace, holding Grace. “How was your night?” she asked without looking up.

Belle was still unsure of whether or not Emma believed the prince’s story. She hadn’t said much or given any indication either way. It was good Belle had told her nothing specific or come right out and say she had filled his bed with more than sleep.

“Fine,” Belle said and placed the purse on the table. That made Emma look up.

“He gave you more money?”

“The same money,” Belle sat down next to her, smiling at Grace and giving the infant her finger to play with. “How’s father?”

“He is…” Emma sighed, “I’m afraid if I leave tonight, I won’t see him again.”

“Is he sleeping?”

“No, he’s speaking with Jefferson and Gaston.”

“Together?”

“He’s finalizing his estate.”

“Emma, what do I do when…” she paused, not wanting to say it so bluntly, “Once you’re gone, I’ll be alone. What if I wake up and he’s gone.”

Smiling sadly, she looked at Grace grasping Belle’s finger, “Go to the coroner and he’ll know what to do.”

Loud coughing brought their attention to the back room and the door behind them opened. Gaston was first to emerge; Jefferson followed, closing the door behind him.

“Belle, you’ve returned,” Gaston commented, though he didn’t look at her. His attention was on the table and the small purse that lay on it. “What’s this?”

“A wedding gift. From the king.”

He opened it and looked in, Belle watched him closely, making sure she saw him set it back down. “Did you thank him for such a gift?”

“I did.”

“By fucking him, no doubt”

“Excuse me?”

“Belle, are we really supposed to believe you haven’t whored yourself out to him?”

“Gatson, you will not speak to my sister like that,” Emma said, standing. Jefferson stood behind her, hands on her shoulders.

“Yes, I think it best you apologize to your fiancée,” Jefferson demanded.

Belle stood, cutting off whatever Gaston would say, “No. Believe what you will. I don’t have to explain myself to any of you. If you’ll excuse me I want to go see my father.”

Without looking anyone in the room in the eye, she entered her father’s room. It was hot and clammy inside and instantly made Belle feel nauseous.

“Belle,” his eyes lit when he saw her and she smiled. She sat on the bed next to him, taking his hand in hers. “

“Papa, how are you feeling?”

“I’m alright, m’dear. I’m alright,” he coughed violently, pressing a handkerchief to his lips.

“Can I get you anything?”

“No, I’m fine,” he said, “Just tell me you didn’t go back screaming at the king.”

Belle laughed, “No. He’s fixed it.”

“And you’re on good terms again?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” he coughed once more, “He’ll be a good friend to have once I’m gone.”

“Papa—”

“It’s true, Belle. Gaston isn’t rich, but with a royal ally, you’ll live comfortably.”

“I won’t be asking him for money.”

“But if you need it—”

“No. People already call me a whore. I’d just be living up to the name,” Belle said, lowering her eyes. She already was living up to the name. The small coin purse on the table proved it. Even if he had called it a gift, she was no better than a brothel call girl.

“Belle,” he squeezed her hand, “My sweet Belle. I’ve done you so wrong. I never should have asked this of you. Why didn’t you tell us?”

Biting her lip, Belle took a breath in, “He asked me not to. Something to do with his male pride.”

Her father’s laughing turned to coughing and she passed him the cup of water on the table next to him. He took a few sips, but it didn’t help much. His voice was hoarse when he spoke again, “I’m only glad the king left your virtue intact. He is a much better man than I had hoped.”

“He is a good man,” Belle said, her eyes still low.

“Gaston should be happy,” he commented. Belle looked up and saw her father’s eyebrows knit together. “He’s told me he doubts your relationship with the king is purely friendship.”

“He’s told me too.”

“Belle, just know, I believe you.”

“Thank you, Papa.”

He cleared his throat again and closed his eyes. Soon, his wheezing breath was slowed, his fingers loosening as he drifted to sleep.

Quietly, Belle left him. Her eyes were drawn to the corner where Jefferson and Gaston stood, whispering madly. Belle cleared her throat a bit and their heads snapped up in unison. Gaston did not look happy, but he kept his mouth closed. He left with only a brief glance at her.

Henry had emerged back into the room and was sitting before Emma, playing with his sister.

“Belle, I’ve talked to him.” Jefferson said, coming to pat her on the shoulder, “He won’t speak to you again about the matter.”

“I don’t care. He can think what he wants.”

She sat before the fire, without another word.

“Mom, I’m hungry,” Henry said after a few moments.

“Belle, would you mind…?” She passed Grace to her when Belle nodded. Holding Grace was nice, it gave her something to do, other than stare into the hearth. The baby had fallen asleep and Belle touched her nose.

This was the one thing she was looking forward to in her marriage—it was the one thing that would be hers entirely. Her life with Gaston would not be pleasant, but children would brighten it greatly. Women didn’t get to do much in the world. They had one purpose and if it was all Belle could do, then she planned to do it as well as her own mother had.

Gaston cared nothing of children. He would have no say in how they were raised. They would be hers.

“Belle?”

Turning in her chair, she saw Emma standing at the table, “Yes?”

“Did you move your… wedding gift?”

“No, why?”

“You set it here, right? On the table?”

“Yes…” Belle stood and saw why Emma asked. The table was bare of all but a few vegetables Emma had before her, the bag of coins missing.


	6. Chapter 6

Bay still eyed him wearily as William returned into the carriage.

“What is it, boy?”

When he didn’t speak, William glanced at him from the carriage window. “When was the last time you called for Mercedes?”

“Who?”

“Your mistress, Father.” Bay said with a roll of his eyes. “She’s been living in the court for the past three weeks and she’s seen you twice. One of which you sent her away. Ever since…you’ve started spending your nights with Belle—”

“I am not as young as I used to be, son. I cannot go around bedding every woman, ever night all night. My leg has been bothering me lately. Perhaps when it it starts feeling better, I’ll be able to preform –”

Bay groaned loudly, “I don’t need to hear this.”

“Then you need to stop asking your father about sex. Shall I tell you what your mother—”

“No! Please, no.”

William laughed and leaned his chin on his fist. They still had a long journey ahead of them and William was never much for talking, especially when he had a speech to prepare. Of course, Bay would have no silence for more than a few minutes.

“What are you going to say to the soldiers?”

“‘Get in, we’ll offer you a ride’.”

Bay rolled his eyes.

“I don’t know. Let me think,” William said and returned to watching the passing scenery.

If only he’d thought to bring his notes. They had been in the his counsel room and he hadn’t given a thought to retrieve them. They were extensive, precise. He’d been working on them since Regina’s letter had arrived. They would have been able to give some confidence to these soldiers. He had a plan. They just needed to know that.

However, now that he didn’t have anything in front of him, William couldn’t seem to remember what they said. They would surround Regina’s army, they would split away from one group. It all made sense on paper. At least it had at the time.

Without his maps and notes, even he didn’t understand it.

This was going to be a disaster; he could already tell. He was never good at speaking to large groups of people. That had always been his brother’s strength.

Everything his brother could do, William lacked. In every possible way.

Everything his brother could do was what a king should do. His brother had the proper education; he had spent his entire life being prepared for the throne. William hadn’t learned his duties until he was already a grown man. Charles had the good traits from their father’s side. William was small as their mother had been. However, his brother had received his mother’s brain and personality.

William closed his eyes. He hadn’t thought of his brother in years. When the memory did cross his mind, he shoved it away. He couldn’t seem to do that now. Since this morning—since Belle—Charles had been in the back of his thoughts.

Charles had been the perfect son and would have been a perfect king. Charles would be able to handle this angry mob of soldiers.

No. No, he would have never had this to deal with in the first place. Charles would have this war over, or at least have a plan—one that actually made sense. Charles would have his army doing what he needed.

Charles would be loved by his army.

William deserved it every single mocking gesture that was sent at him. He was weak. It wasn’t something that he denied; it was a silent acknowledgment between everyone he came in contact with. Everyone knew.

By the time the carriage stopped, he was bent over, his thumb and index finger grasping the bridge of his nose. Cool air rushed in when the coachman opened the door. With it, came loud angry voices. They shouted indistinctly at the coach and William fisted his hands to keep them from shaking.

His thoughts had been completely taken over by his brother and, now, as he was faced with the soldiers, he thought desperately as to what he would say. Everything he’d planned had left him.

“Father?” Bay asked when William didn’t move.

Sighing, he quickly exited the carriage before his distress paralyzed him for good. Immediately as he stepped from the stool, the uproar worsened. There was a sea of men before his carriage and, if they chose, could have trampled him out of their way. They didn’t choose that right now. These men were angry, but they stayed planted where they were.

William’s breath came in shallow, broken little gasps as he climbed into the coachman’s chair. There, more of his men would be able to see and hear him.

“Gentlemen,” he started, feeling as if he was yelling too loudly. But their noise quieted. Every eye was on him, and he could feel it. There was a nauseous feeling in his stomach, but he swallowed it down. “I know that hope and morale have been down.”

“Damn straight!” An unseen voice yelled, “We’re going home!”

“I cannot allow that,” William called, watching the men in the front. They would be the first to start a stampede. They stared at him, not bothering to mask their anger. “We have—”

“We aren’t going to wait here another three months while you do nothing.” This was from a man just before him. He was not just yelling out, but clearly addressing William personally. “I have a family that needs me.”

“I understand that—”

“What do you understand?!” An unseen voice called, “All you royal bastards do sit in your palace.”

“You understand nothing!” Another voice yelled.

“I—”

More and more voices joined in, adding to the growing bellowing of the crowd.

“Gentlemen!” Bay’s voice cut through the thundering noise. “Please!”

His son’s command silenced them with stunning ease. William gazed down on him as Bay stepped in front of the carriage. “We know that there are issues with this war. We know that winter is coming and your families need to be taken care of. But without this,” Bay paused, gesturing at the space around him, “every single family in the kingdom will die.”

There was an unhappy grumbling from the men, but Bay silenced them again, “We have a plan.”

The way he spoke, enunciating each word, William felt as if he were a young boy again, waiting behind his brother to charge their army into battle.

“We have received word of Regina’s intentions,” Bay gestured back at William, “Your king has a strategy that will work. But it entails you staying put.” Bay spat the last words out angrily. The soldiers were still silent and William feared breathing, least it should draw any more attention to himself.

“Your families will be provided for, I give you my word.” Bay promised, his voice still holding its anger. “But if you abandon your posts again, your title of ‘king’s man’ will be stripped from you and the court will expect to be reimbursed for the wages it’s spent on you.”

Bay paused, looking at each man he could before speaking again, “Now, if you return back to you station we can forget this incident entirely and we won’t have to charge each of you for treason.”

That seemed to have more of an impact than anything else he had said. Almost in one entire wave, the soldiers had turned and were retreating, their commanding officers giving Bay a salute before following.

Still frozen on the coach’s seat, William only moved when the coach had climbed up next to him. He stumbled a bit and when Bay moved to steady him, William shrugged him off.

“Good job, Bay,” he said, knowing it was the right thing to say. But he didn’t have the meaning behind them.

He supposed he should be proud of his son. Instead, he felt incredibly small. The feeling of his insignificance crushed down on him and became worse the entire ride home. If Bay sensed his father’s mood, he didn’t comment.

The ride back home took double the time and as they entered the town limits, he pounded on the carriage roof his cane and opened the door. “Stop by Isabelle Frenier’s residence.”

“Yes, your highness,” the coach called.

When William sat back, Bay gave him a curious look which further irritated William. The carriage pulled to a stop, and instantly, William was out of the carriage and striding to Belle’s small cottage. It was surprising how swiftly he moved, but his leg barely slowed him down and he used the head of his cane to pound on the door.

The door swung open without any noise behind it and William came face to face with a small boy. The boy looked up at him with huge eyes and when he noticed the carriage waiting in the road, he scurried back inside, calling for his mother.

William waited in the doorway and soon, a blonde woman emerged quickly from a back room. “Oh, my God!” she exclaimed, and started to turn, but then returned to him, “Please, come in. Henry, Go get Belle.”

“You must be Belle’s sister,” He took a step inside.

“Yes, I’m Emma,” she said extending a hand to him. It was an odd gesture from a woman, but something about the forwardness of it intrigued him. She looked him directly in the eye and didn’t shy away from him when he addressed her. He instantly knew he liked her.

He took it. With any other woman he would have pressed a kiss to it, but with her he shook it. “Was that your son?”

“Yeah, that’s Henry.”

Emma turned from him as the door opened again. Belle was pushed out by a man in a hat, who disappeared quickly again. Belle’s protest died away when she saw him, “What are you doing here?”

“Are you busy?” he asked, ignoring the way Emma watched him.

“Um…” She looked to Emma, who shrugged.

“We’re not leaving until he comes back, so…”

“I, uh,” she looked back at him, still looking hesitant, “No, I guess not.”

Smiling as she came forward, he gave her his arm and nodded at Emma, who narrowed her eyes at him.

Belle was quiet as they walked, arm in arm back to the carriage. He wasn’t sure if he was acting strange, but he supposed he must have. Belle didn’t look at him when she sat and neither did Bay. They did, however, look at each other before resuming the silent ride.

When he chanced a glance at her, she was looking at him, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He had to look away, crossing his legs to keep this ride from getting any more awkward.

William felt anxious and fidgety. The army hadn’t listened to him—he really hadn’t expected they would. Now, thinking on it, he wasn’t sure what he’d expected. It certainly wasn’t his own son taking charge. He tried to feel pride for his son’s actions. He really did.

Balfour would be a great leader. So much better than his pathetic father.

Glancing again at Belle, he grit his teeth. He just needed to wait long enough until they could be alone. She hadn’t seen what had occurred. She never needed to know just how awful a king he really was. He would never let Belle’s idea of him be anything less than what he wanted her to see.

Then, suddenly and making Belle jump, Bay rapped on the roof of the carriage.

“Well, as pleasant as this ride has been,” he said, standing when they had stopped moving, “I think I will go out for a drink.”

Belle shrunk back in her seat, giving Bay room to maneuver in the small carriage and when he’d finally exited, she sighed, slowly expanding herself again. It took her only a minute to realize William watched her.

“Is something wrong?”

“No,” he shook his head and took her hand, “Come here.”

When he pulled her to him, she didn’t resist. She took too long arranging her skirts and he gripped her hips, forcing her down on his lap.

“Did something happen?”

“Sh,” he silenced her with his mouth, barely keeping his teeth from clamping together on her lip.

Her hands were timid, uncertain about his strange mood. When he gripped her closer to him, she closed her fingers in his hair and kissed him back. Their breathing was loud, but the carriage wheels were louder. She straddled him, her legs awkwardly bent on the seat beside him. Her skirts pressed his trousers against his firm body.

When he couldn’t find the hem of her skirt blindly, he separated their mouths and she released his hair to wrap her arms tightly around his neck. Her lips moved instead to his cheek and jaw, kissing him softly. It was only when she raised her hips from him did his fingers finally reach her flesh. He couldn’t say where exactly he touched, her thigh, her stomach, it was her and that was his only thought.

A quiet breath from her had him moaning and he rubbed her harder, pushed his hand further up, desperately needing to feel her most private skin. His fingertips found the wetness and she gasped against his collar, shifting her hips the tiniest bit.

But then, they jerked forward. The carriage had come to a halt and the momentum almost sent her flying to the floor. Quickly, she scrambled off his lap, leaving William cold where her body had been.

Belle was barely in her seat by the time the carriage opened. He let the coachman help her out and he sat still for a few moments, willing his body to soften so the coachman wouldn’t see. When he couldn’t sit there any longer, he stood, Belle arranged herself casually to walk in front of him.

His breathing only came quicker the closer they came to the bedroom. She only spoke to him to see where she should lead him; she didn’t seem surprised when he answered the same as last time.

It was Belle who remembered to lock the door, which he supposed was a good thing. And she didn’t linger, which was also a good thing. She came to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and tried to kiss him.

William didn’t want to kiss. With his hands on her shoulders, he pushed her to the bed. A small look of concern flashed her face, but faded when he knelt on his good knee in front of her.

From the position, he easily slipped her skirts from her hips. Any other material blocking him was angrily pushed away. Leaning into her, Belle gasped when his lips pressed to her wetness. Her flavor burst in his mouth as his lips parted and he let his tongue drag through the moisture.

The few minutes they’d spent in the carriage had her more than ready and he licked at her. Each time, her hips shifted. Whether it was a voluntary action, he didn’t know or care.

Every minute he stayed there, more and more of her flooded into him. William scraped his teeth, nipping at her, listening for the tiny noises she made. The mattress creaked as Belle fell back, her elbows giving out. Her fingers twisted in his hair and he felt her tensing, her knees buckling up on either side of his head.

With is tongue still working within her, he glanced up. Only her neck was visible from this angle, for she was looking up far enough to see the wall behind her.

Grudgingly, he tore his mouth from her. Before she could protest, he hooked his arms under her knees and tugged her forward. She slithered to the floor with grace and before she had time to settle, William began to unlace her bodice. Her hands stayed at her side and she watched his clumsy fingers. It fell limply from her and, standing, he pulled her loose camisole from her shoulders.

Belle sitting bare before him hardened his body even further. His fingers carded through her hair, pushing it aside to reveal her back. The skin there was soft and he let his extended hand over her. Light pressure was enough to have her leaning over, bracing herself on her palms.

With one hand trailing down her spine, he quickly freed himself from his trousers and had settled himself between her legs. Belle wasn’t prepared for his first thrust, hadn’t seen him line himself into her and her palms slipped on the floor, bring her down to her elbows.

“Lie flat,” he said, pulling out of her and while she complied, he flung his trousers across the room. And, not wanting any other clothing in the way, he hurried to undo his vest and shirt. Belle looked up from the floor and watched him. Her eyes were unreadable and when he was completely naked, she turned her forehead to the floor.

She would tell him if he went too far—if she didn’t like it.

William lay over her, his hardness pressing between her legs. As careful as he could, he pushed her thighs further apart. Though when his hand tried to help him in, it was still difficult to slide into her.

“Relax,” he grunted against her shoulder, and slid an arm around her waist, lifting her hips from the floor, “Let me in, Belle.”

The only answer he received was a small, muffled she made into her shoulder. With the better position, it was easier as he tried again. Her muscles were still tight and a bit restricting.

But his desire wouldn’t let him be still to allow her to adjust to the new position. He was already dragging his hips from hers and driving back in. If Belle did make any noise, it was muffled and as of right now, William didn’t particularly need to hear them.

The force of him had her hips digging back into the ground, away from him.

“Raise your hips, sweetheart,” he said, tightening his arm around her. He had meant it to be soothing, but the pet name came out a bit more patronizing than he’d meant. Below him, she nodded and pushed her hips into him.

His climax was building, but Belle kept slipping back to the ground. William would still be able to find his pleasure, but he couldn’t get deep enough for her.

Then, without his coaxing, she drew her leg up, folding her knee under her. It was just what he needed; he snaked his hand, not already around her under her, under thigh, pressing him entirely against her back. With his good leg bent against hers, mirroring her folded knee, he pressed his palm over her hand, which clawed at the floor by her head.

Heat radiated from her, more than any other time before. When he released her hips and dipped his fingers into her slit, she was hot to the touch. Her head had turned to the side, giving him a look at her face. The floor pressed to her cheek and her mouth gaping open with a locked jaw.

She looked even more lost than she had when they were together this morning. There was no revulsion or fear in her expression—only pleasure. He pressed his lips to her shoulder as he rammed into her again.

The muscles under his lips were tight but his were tighter. With his new reach into her, it was becoming more and more difficult to keep himself from spilling into her. His finger, still down in her, started stroking. He pressed against as hard as he could, scraping his short nail across her tightly bound center, gaining a garbled moan.

He rubbed as he thrust and soon, her body tensed, her backside pressing even further into him. Belle was trembling, her face back down to the floor and she finally broke. With a final grunt, he pushed himself within her spasming walls, rousing his own blinding pleasure. His lips on her shoulder parted and his teeth caught her skin. She let out a slight whimper and he forced himself to drag his teeth from her, letting the flesh slip from his mouth.

When his seed was finally out and his pleasure spent, he stilled. Below him, Belle gulped down air and when she moved, he couldn’t find the strength to lift himself. Her leg was still folded underneath both their bodies and she sighed when she finally had it stretched out behind her.

Any movement she made was stiff. But William wasn’t surprised.

It hadn’t been gentle for either of them. His leg ached where it dug into the wood floor, the force of he’d used would more than likely leave her sore, and when he looked at her shoulder, he saw his teeth had left a ring that would most likely turn purple. Luckily, his mouth had found a spot where most of her dresses would cover it. 

But she’d never stopped him, which was relieving. He wouldn’t have forced himself on her, but he’d been so desperate he didn’t know what he would have done had she rejected him.

“To the bed?” Belle suggested, breathlessly.

Grunting, William slipped out of her and, with a wave of a hand, toppled on the floor, “If you’d like.”

He continued to lie there, not really caring to move to the bed. Belle let out a short breath and shakily rose.

It was only a few seconds after he shut his eyes when a heavy blanket dropped on top of his stomach. Belle stood above him, two pillows in her arms and she sat down, placing one beneath his head. He muttered a quiet thanks as she adjusted herself under the blanket.

When she lay still, she didn’t touch him, but lay on her side and watched him.

“Did something happen? With the soldiers?”

Still looking up at the ceiling, he squinted at the rafters as he answered, “Would you have been happier with our deal, had it been with someone else?”

“What?”

“Had you come here originally and found Bay in my stead, would you be happier?”

The long pause made him close his eyes. Now that she confirmed it, he regretted ever asking. Perhaps he was better off not knowing if she really desired him or not.

“William,” she said quietly, her hand started rubbing his stomach under the blanket. He only looked at her when her lips touched his shoulder. “You’re son would not make me happier.”

“He’s closer to your age,” he said, “Would be able to ensure you’re pleasure more than once a night.”

“That’s my fault…” Belle hid her face in his shoulder, muffling her words. “I know myself. I’d just be letting you down. We could,” she looked up and bit her lip, “We could work up to it…you know, baby steps.”

He laughed once, returning his gaze to the ceiling, “You don’t have to.”

“But I want to.” Instantly, her mouth was on his and she was placing herself over him. His hands rubbed her back and his lips moved with hers. He let her have her fill of his mouth and when she pulled away, he sighed.

“You should be going,” he said. It elicited a look from her that seemed almost to be disappointment, “You’re father needs looking after.”

“Right…”

He stayed on the floor while she stood, retrieving her clothing without looking at him. The blanket kept him warm and he almost wished to call her back when he saw she was cold. The hair on her arms had visibly risen and the tip of her breasts had hardened. When he opened his mouth, she was already slipping her camisole on and working at her skirts.

So he set his jaw and watched her, his arm beneath his head on the pillow. She set to lacing up her bodice and she sighed.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” she said without looking up, “but do you remember the first night we were together? Not when you acted like a bastard and sent me away, but really together?”

Dropping her hands from the half laced bodice, she looked at him. William nodded once.

“You said that you wanted me,” her voice was sharp and he felt like he was a child being scolded, “even if Gaston didn’t. And I believed you.”

“And?” he snapped, willing her to keep chiding him. That uneasy feeling still held fast in his stomach. Perhaps he needed a good argument to squelch it.

But Belle’s face was kind as she knelt next to him. She touched his arm, willing him to sit up. For some reason, he obeyed.

“And I know what it’s like not to feel wanted,” she said and he was about to protest, but she continued, “Not to feel as good as…everyone.”

“Belle,” he said as she ran her fingers through her hair. Her touch soothed instantly, her words even more. More than the rough coupling they’d shared.

“You made me feel wanted.”

His eyes closed as she kissed him. Her lips were soft and swift, pulling away before he could seize the kiss. “Do you feel wanted?”

“I suppose…”

Smiling as she kissed him again, she allowed him to grip her and she settled down on her heels. When he reached for the dangling ribbon at her chest, she caught his hands. She didn’t push them away, in fact, she held them even closer to her. But it was restraining, nonetheless. She wasn’t going to let him go further than this kiss.

“Baby steps,” he murmured against her lips.

Laughter pulled her from him and he saw her face had flushed a lovely pink. “Yes. Baby steps.”

“You really should be returning to your father,” he said, his hands still at her chest.

“There’s really no rush,” her eyes dropped and she released his fingers.

“No?”

“Emma…she was supposed to leave tonight. But…”

“Something happened?”

The look on her face told him he was correct. She bit her lip, rolling her eyes as she leaned away from him. “Gaston.”

“What of him?”

“He took the money that you gave me—us,” she spoke slowly, watching his reaction.

“He stole it, you mean.”

“Well…yes…”

“Come, I’ll take care of it,” he said, immediately standing. But Belle caught him by the arm.

“No,” she said urgently rising to her feet as well. “Please, I don’t want—”

“My help?”

“Obligation. I don’t want you to drop everything just to help a farm girl.”

“Belle, I cannot let this—”

“Please,” she pleaded, “it looks like favoritism. They already call me your whore, I—”

“Who calls you that?” he demanded. “Who still calls you that?”

“Everyone.” Shrugging, she leaned into his hand when he touched her cheek. “It’s what I am.”

His thumb dug into her cheek when she said it. “Belle, you are not—fine. No more gifts. No more ‘favoritism’.” She looked up at him, hopeful. “We will share my bed because we both want it.”

There was a smile on her face as she nodded and he stroked her cheek again. “But—”

“Belle, we are friends. But…I don’t let anyone out of a deal for free.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

William looked down at his knee, “To repay your debt, you are to be my caretaker.”

“You already have servants. They won’t—”

“My personal caretaker.”

“But Bay already told them—”

“People believe what seems reasonable.”

“And what exactly is reasonable for a personal caretaker’s duties?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Anything.” Slowly, he reached out and worked on lacing the front of her bodice, “Make sure I’m in no pain,” he nudged her with his knee, “Keep my fire, warm my bed…fetch me my slippers?”

She laughed at the last one, making him smile too.

“And I read to you as you preform your duties.”

“And you didn’t just have Bay tell people this before?”

“I didn’t know a friends giving gifts would still look like whoring,” he said angrily.

“It’s a believable story.”

“It is. Next time,” he said, moving toward the door, “Bring ointment. My knee is starting to act up.”

“If I can find any,” she quickly followed him. He had the door open only a crack to hide his nakedness but it was clear he wanted her to go.

“Buy it with this,” he pressed a small silver coin to her. She looked hesitant. When he spoke, he tried to put on the most business sounding voice he could manage while he stood naked. “It’s not for you. You spend it on my leg. I need it very specifically from a specific market woman.”

“What woman?”

“…You decide.”

“Alright,” she nodded, laughing.

“Forgive me, if I don’t walk you out.”

“Does your leg still bother you?” she asked lightly.

Smiling, he opened the door for her, “Don’t forget the ointment.”

“Of course not, your highness.”

“William,” he said and her smile brightened.

He closed the door and limped to the nearest chair. His knee did hurt quite badly and he wondered if Belle really would have seen to it.

It was a good story. If only he’d thought of it sooner. The townspeople wouldn’t need convincing; they would believe any gossip.

Bay, however, would be problematic. It was obvious he hadn’t believed what William had told him. There were ways to incorporate this new story in with the old, but it would give Bay even suspicions. Just as he’d had from the beginning. Sighing, he leaned his head against his chair.

The feelings he’d had toward his son now left him feeling guilty. He was Bay’s father and should never, ever resent him. And thinking back, he never actually did. It was had been himself. He hadn’t been angry at Bay at all, now, sitting there, he smiled at how his son had seized control. He would be a brilliant king.

It was his own weakness William hated.

His leg ached and he flexed his foot, wincing. He couldn’t sleep in this chair, but the thought of going moving seemed exhausting. Finally, when he knew he had to move or sleep, he pushed himself up and collapsed into the bed. The pillows still lay on the floor and that was where William left them. He lay on the mattress, covered only in the sheet.

Belle’s words seemed to put his worries at ease. William was weak, still every bit the coward he’d been 28 years ago, and still, she returned to him—still let him try and prove to himself he was enough of a man.

Feeling somewhat numb, having spent all his strength on the issue into Belle, he drifted easily to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

It was strange, walking after what they’d just done. Her legs felt heavy. It was a bit like when she had ridden a horse for the first time…only now, Belle supposed, the horse had ridden her.

The thought made her cheeks flush and she bit back a shy smile. It hadn’t been bad, facing away from him. She’d still found enough pleasure to enjoy herself, but she much preferred being able to see him.

As she walked, she nodded at the various guards standing watch. Most of them were becoming familiar, she even knew two or three of their names. Just as she came through to the entrance hall, Bay was entering as well.

“Ah, Miss Belle,” he said, coming toward her.

“Not too much to drink, I hope?” she teased, making him laugh.

“No, just a few sips,” he assured her. “How’s my father?”

“He’s…in a strange mood.”

“I noticed,” he shuffled his feet and didn’t meet her eyes. “My father’s taken a shine to you.”

“I…I suppose,” Belle said.

“It’s good, he’s been alone for a long while,” he finally met her eyes.

“Bay, what did William tell you? About why I’m here?”

Her question made him pause, then blush, then babble about them being friends. Belle’s uncomfortable laugh was genuine and she shook her head, “Does he consider all his staff friends?”

“Staff?”

“You didn’t think he let me off for free?”

“I…” he thought on it, “Not really. Then…what…?”

“He hired me to, well mostly to see to his knee,” she stammered. Belle had never lied much in her life, but she found, it sounded mostly like she spoke the truth. “Or any other thing he might need.”

“I see.”

“You’re father strikes me as a man who doesn’t like to talk of his weaknesses to most people.”

Bay laughed, “You would be right. He told me that he read to you and you slept next to him…”

“He does read to me,” Belle assured him, sounding more and more sure of herself, “I will get in bed if he needs it, but…”

“That actually makes more sense,” Bay said and Belle sighed with relief. He’d bought it and looked like he believed it more than the other story. “Still, you must be something special.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He talks of you as a friend. Lets you call him William. Not all his ‘servants’ have that honor.”

“I suppose,” Belle shrugged, “If you’ll excuse me. I must be returning home.”

“Of course,” Bae put a hand on her back and came with her through the door. He signaled to the coachman and helped her inside.

Even climbing the one step, Belle felt something strange in her stomach, not pain exactly but enough sensation to be uncomfortable. The bumpy ride didn’t help much and when they stopped at her home, she stumbled out of the carriage to a loud commotion. Outside, Emma and Jefferson stood in the doorway, Gaston, she knew it was him even if he stood with his back to her, stood opposite them.

Emma caught her eye and rushed to her, pushing Gaston out of the way.

“What’s going on?” Belle asked, stepping forward to meet her.

“He spent all your money.”

“What did you expect him after he stole it?” Belle asked, glaring at her fiancé. “Why did you come back?”

“I didn’t steal the money,” he snapped, stomping forward. Emma pressed her hand into his chest to keep him away from them, “I spent it. For both of us. I invested in our life together.”

“What did you buy?”

“Livestock,” he said simply, “It’ll be useful. It will help us long term—”

“We already have livestock. We needed the money now.”

“Belle,” he looked past Emma and smiled, “This will be better.”

“My father could die if we don’t have food!” Belle screamed. Beside her Emma bit her lip, knowing that Belle didn’t normally raise her voice. “It wasn’t your money. If anything it was mine.”

Emma folded her arms and gave Gaston a smug look. It faded immediately when he spoke, “Belle…I will be the husband, finances are not a woman’s concern.”

Belle’s mouth opened to protest, but there weren’t words to say. She knew whatever she said to him, nothing would convince him he was wrong. So she pushed past both him and her sister into the house.

Once inside, she immediately shut herself in the washroom, hiding away so they wouldn’t see her tears. She didn’t know why she was crying. Yes, Gaston thought this way, but he had always thought this way. Nothing had changed…except…now, she had been with William. It only now dawned on her that she did not want to marry him. Her life with him would be miserable.

Children could only bring so much comfort. They would take time to be conceived then even more to grow inside her. Once they had come, how long would she have them? Fifteen—sixteen years? Sons would get married, daughters would be married off. In the end, she would be alone with Gaston for the remainder of her days.

The muscles in her stomach tightened painfully and she held herself while she choked out her tears. The pain reminded her of William, of everything she didn’t have—would never have.

“Belle?” Emma knocked quietly on the door.

“Go away,” Belle said with surprising steadiness to her voice.

“Belle, we’re—” Emma sighed, “We’re leaving tonight.”

Spinning around, Belle threw open the door, “Is he gone?”

“Yes, I threw him out myself,” she said proudly, “Or dragged him out into the street, but I think the point got across.”

“Thank you.”

Emma stood awkwardly for a moment before patting Belle’s shoulder, “It’ll be okay.”

“You got so lucky, with—” Belle started, but the ache, which seemed to have worsened in her minutes in the washroom, silenced her.

“What’s wrong?”

“My stomach hurts.”

“Oh,” Emma helped her out of the doorway and settled her into a chair before the fire. “Do you need anything?”

Belle shook her head, “Are you really leaving tonight?”

“Yeah,” Emma sighed and leaned against the arm of her chair, “Jefferson needs to get back to work and Henry is growing restless.”

“Of course.” Belle played with the folds in her dress. She was scared of Gaston returning. She was scared of her father’s fate. There were so many things to be afraid of, but Belle knew she would have to face them eventually. If she wanted to be seen as something more than what Gaston saw, she couldn’t sit in the corner and cry.

No, she wouldn’t cry today. Not anymore. Not over Gaston. Still, when she let her breath out, it was shaky. “When do you go?”

“When Jefferson has our cart ready.”

Coughing from the back room made them both turn, but Emma gestured for her to stay and she went to tend to their father. Belle leaned back into the hard chair and sighed.

Things were going to be different once Emma left. She had a gnawing feeling that she would no longer be just a daughter. She would be her father’s caretaker, the king’s lover, Gaston’s property and wife, soon she would be a mother as well. It was a lot of responsibility, much more than she’d ever had.

She was lucky, she knew. Girls years younger than her were married and pregnant already. Belle was already 18, soon would be 19, but she still felt too young. Perhaps it was the time she’d spent with William. Deep inside she still felt too much like a child to be anyone’s wife.

No…it wasn’t her time with William. It was her time with Gaston. He treated her like a child, spoke to her as if he really were many years older than her. William, who actually was years older than her, called her ‘girl’, but spoke to her like a woman. Is this why she felt too young when she was with William? Did Gaston give here these insecurities?

Before her tears could come again, the door opened and Jefferson came in wiping his hands on his pants. Henry trailed along, holding Grace in his arms.

“Ah, Belle,” he came to stand next to her, “Everything alright?”

“Yes,” Belle said, laughing a bit when Henry settled himself in her lap. The muscles in her stomach still ached, but Belle hugged Henry close, glad to have someone to embrace.

“What did the king want?” Henry asked.

Jefferson sat next to her, obviously interested in the answer as well. Belle swallowed before she answered. Since her conversation with Bae, she knew that she could lie convincingly, but she didn’t like lying to her family. But, she supposed, William had done it for her and she could do it as well.

“He was having a bad time today,” Belle said, adjusting Grace’s blanket around her shoulders. She was yawning and would fall asleep soon. “Which reminds me…” she eased Henry and Grace off her lap and stood. Jefferson watched her as she looked through the bundle of herbs next to the stove. He took Grace from Henry and came closer.

“What are those for?” Jefferson ask, eyeing her pile.

“He asked me to get a balm for his bad knee,” Belle said, placing the last of the herbs before her. “My mother’s medicine should do the trick.”

“Bad knee?” Jefferson picked up a sprig and sniffed it.

“Yes, he was injured in the war. That was his one request to…”

“Belle, you think I don’t see through you,” Jefferson was tapping the small herb leaves against his lips and winked, “I won’t tell.”

Blushing, Belle plucked the herb from him and replaced it in the pile she was about to cut. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He cut his laugh short when Emma emerged from their father’s room, carefully restoring the door behind her. “Well, he’s sleeping again.”

“Good,” Belle said, her attention already back on finely dicing her herbs.

“For your stomach?” Emma asked.

“Oh…um,” Belle hadn’t thought of it, but she supposed it would help. Glancing back at the counter, she knew there would not be enough to make ointment for both her and William. “I don’t think there will be enough.”

“For papa then?”

Belle looked up. Emma had come to stand next to her husband, with her arm around Henry’s shoulder. Her throat tightened at the happy family they looked, all together they were the family she’d always dreamed of having. She looked down again, forcing herself to remember she wasn’t going to cry over Gaston. “For the king.”

“What does he need of it?”

“An old battle wound. He doesn’t like to speak of it, but it bothers him. I am…lowly enough…that he doesn’t mind me knowing,” Belle didn’t look up as she chopped furiously.

“Hmm,” Emma said, “I don’t think I liked him much.”

“He was old,” Henry said, making Belle’s head snap up. “I thought he’d look like the prince.”

Jefferson snickered and placed his free hand on Emma’s shoulder, “Should we be going?”

“Yeah,” Emma sighed and took her daughter. Belle swallowed and set the knife down.

Outside, she hugged her sister and gave Jefferson an awkward side hug. Kissing both Grace and Henry on the cheek, she stood at side of the road while they drove away, their old mule slowly pulling them further and further.

Clamping her jaw in determination, she turned back to her home and continued her work. The longer it took, the more she wished there would be enough of her medicine for her as well.

The next day, her stomach felt even worse. She didn’t realize that William had been so rough with her. It hadn’t felt that painful at the time, but she supposed the pleasure of the moment had blocked most of the pain.

The ointment had to boil for almost an entire day and Belle spent it rotating from tending to her father or sitting curled into a ball before the fire. When she’d made this before, she found the boiling soupy-stage of the process to give a pleasant aroma to the house. Now, it sickened her. By the time night fell, she had to run from the stuffy room and vomit.

Just as she was straightening up, she realized. She was holding her stomach, the way mothers did—expectant mothers. Belle froze, halfway leaning over the broken fence. Shaking her head, she tightened her hold on the material in her fist.

No. She could not be expecting a child. It wasn’t…Would William even want a child from her. He did seem to enjoy her presence, but a child would tie him to a peasant girl. For life.

Suddenly, she felt even more nauseated and wretched again into the street. Gaston would never marry her. No man would ever marry her. All the lying would be for nothing if she had a child; everyone would know what a harlot she was.

It was her father’s calls which finally brought her back inside. She could barely face him, her cheeks flaming when he asked her how she was. Once he was settled again, she closed the door and let a few tears escape her. A child would change everything…perhaps not for the worse, but that would depend on how William reacted. He loved Bay…but would he love their child the same? Their child would be of inferior birth. And out of wedlock.

Oh, God. She would have the king’s bastard heir.

That night, Belle didn’t sleep. Neither did her father, which kept her from lying in her bed through the night, worrying. When it was almost dawn, she sat before the fire again, rubbing her fingers lightly over her stomach. William would need to be told. She would have to be the one to tell him.

Wincing at another sharp pain, she brought her legs up under her and noticed something wet between them. Could it—her heart leapt at the feeling and she sprung to her feet, rushing to the wash room. When she lifted her skirts and found a bit of blood in her underthings she laughed with relief. Never had she been happier to see she’d started her monthly time.

Why she hadn’t thought her signs would be of her bleeding seemed silly now. It was the right time and she usually had pains beforehand. She dropped her skirts and chuckled again, leaning back on the door. The twinges in her stomach were a comfort now, a sign that there was no bastard child growing in her womb.

Just as she had placed the soiled clothing into soaking water, there was a knock on the front door. Belle rushed to it, not knowing who to expect.

There was a man in a royal uniform and he held out a rolled parchment to her. “Miss Frenier?”

“Yes?”

“The king hopes you will join him for dinner tonight.”

“Oh…um,” Belle hesitated. She wasn’t sure if it was possible to…preform their activities…when she had her time. It would be possible, she guessed, messy, but possible. It was only her first day and the mess might not be too noticeable. If the king wanted her, she supposed she must go, “Alright.”

The soldier gave a small bow and retreated to his horse. That was when she realized she had no way of getting there. He hadn’t sent a carriage to take her and she couldn’t walk, she barely felt well enough to finish the medicine. Belle hurried from the house, but the rider was out of sight.

Sighing, she retreated back inside. Would William be angry when she didn’t show? The last time they’d been together was the closest she’d ever seen him to anger. But Belle knew that William had a temper. She had heard him in quite a fit the first time she’d been to his castle, but even then, when she’d come inside, there was no anger in him.

She opened the parchment and looked at it. The note was a formal invitation, but scrawled at the bottom was a single sentence, written in ink. She swiped her finger over the words, wondering what he’d written to her.

Worry plagued her the rest of the day. Any second he might show up, yelling and screaming, demanding to know why she hadn’t come to him. She barely ate, but managed to keep down a small chunk of bread.

Belle was growing extremely tired and after a final check on her father, she lay on her bed and exhaustion extinguished her racing thoughts.

When she woke up, she could barely move. She never remembered just how awful she felt while she bled. The pains were almost unbearable as she lay in her bed, clutching her stomach. She almost cried at the thought that there was almost another week of this to endure. Emma had always said that when she bled, she barely felt a thing—if she did it was only for a day.

Belle was not so lucky. Once the blood came, so did the pain. It lasted until the very last day. But, it had never come so early…she supposed the rough night with William had contributed to that.

She no longer thought her hurt as comforting. Yes she was without child, but having a child stop her monthly cycle for a few months might be worth it. She laughed morbidly as she rolled onto her back, wincing again.

The movement let her know that her blood had also worsened as she slept. When she stood, she found that she had again stained her clothing. For the second time, she knelt at the wash basin and scrubbed until the red was gone.

Instead of changing, it was late enough she could get away with wearing her night dress. She slipped it over her head, vaguely aware that William still might come for her. If he did, he would have to deal with the fact she was not well and chose to be in her sleepwear.

And it seemed, he would have to. Not ten minutes after she’d settled back into her chair was there a quick knock on the door. Slowly, rising like an old maid might, she rose and opened the door. Just as she expected, William was there.

But he didn’t look angry. Her dress gave him pause and he looked over her. “You didn’t come to dinner.”

“No. I’m sorry,” Belle stood back to let him in. “You didn’t send a carriage.”

“I—I wasn’t sure if that would be too…extravagant…” he said, looking a bit uncomfortable. “And I assumed you had walked before…”

“I have. I wouldn’t have been able to walk that far tonight though,” Belle said, retreating back to her seat. If he wished to leave, he could show himself out.

“Are you unwell?”

“You could call it that,” Belle said with a laugh, “It’s…my time.” She glanced at him to see if he understood and it appeared he did. He looked away and sat in the seat next to her.

“Ah, I see,” he licked his lips and stared into the fire. She could tell what he had had planned for tonight. He’d wanted another night together. “I…I thought I might have upset you…with our last time.”

“Oh,” Belle said, pressing her arms to her stomach again as another surge went through her. “No, it wasn’t that.”

“Good,” he said quickly and looked relieved when he glanced over. “Are you alright?”

She tightened her arms around her, willing the pain to go. “It hurts,” she breathed through gritted teeth.

“Where are your towels?”

“What?” But Belle didn’t pause for his answer; she released one hand and gestured to the door on the right. “In the washroom.”

It was only a few minutes before William returned and set one of her drying towels before the fire. He shrugged off his coat and spread it on the ground. Holding out his hand to her, he nodded to it, “Come sit.”

She wearily eyed it for a second, but didn’t put much thought into it. She slumped off the chair and onto the ground, where he already sat. As she sat, he guided her to sit facing away from him and his hands stayed on her back.

The position brought to her mind how he’d been behind her the last night and she swallowed.

“My wife used to say it was as if every muscle in your abdomen were being wrung out like a sponge,” he said and kneaded at her lower back with his fingers.

Belle laughed as she arched her back into him. “That’s a fairly accurate description.” His hands felt wonderful, working to ease the tension. Though he worked on her back, it helped with the pain in the front. He rubbed up her spine and he massaged her shoulders for a moment before returning to the small of her back.

When one hand left her, she opened her eyes and saw him turning the towel over. “What’s that for?”

“When it gets warm, you place it over your back or stomach and it’ll help, or at least it did my wife.”

Absentmindedly, she reached out to his leg, which extended to her side, and pulled it closer to her. She worked her fingers over his knee and calf as he rubbed continued to rub her. “Thank you. For not being mad about dinner.”

She heard him laugh once behind her, “If anything I was more disappointed…I—I’m sorry if last time I was too…rough.”

“I told you,” Belle said, “it wasn’t that.”

“Right,” he said quietly.

“But, had any other man tried that…I would not have been so cooperative.”

“I’m sorry.”

Belle turned as he removed his hands, but saw it was only to retrieve the towel. He seemed to want to say nothing more on the subject, “Lie down.”

She obliged him and lay on her stomach. When the hot towel was laid on her back, she gasped as it burned for a second. But as her skin got used to it, the heat began to soak into her. William still rubbed her back and she closed her eyes.

“You never did tell me,” Belle said after a while and his hands stilled on her back. “Something happened. With the soldiers, I mean.”

“Yes,” he sat back, taking his hands from her. It left her muscles tensing again, but it was bearable. As he looked at his hands, he sighed, “You spoke of my brother.”

The words could have been accusatory or angry, but they were just stated.

“I haven’t thought of Charles in years,” he continued. “And Bay…he’ll be a great king. He’s a good leader. Like Charles.”

“And you still don’t think you’re—”

A sad, quiet laugh stopped her, “No dear, I know. I’ve accepted it.”

Straightening, he allowed her to roll onto her back, and he replaced the towel on her stomach as she smoothed his coat on the ground, “Lay with me?”

At first, she thought he might reject the idea of lying on her dirt floor, but he shifted his weight and settled himself beside her. “I’ve a beautiful girl to warm my bed. A son who will do great things. It’s a good life. I don’t need the history books to take note of me.”

“It sounds like you’ve given up.”

“I’ve accepted my own insignificance, it’s hardly giving up.”

“But if you win the war…” She propped herself on her elbow to look at him, trying not to let her face show the discomfort she felt at the movement.

“If,” he mused and stroked her hair. “Are you feeling better?”

“A bit,” she lied and he saw through it. He pulled her to him, her face resting on his chest. From the position, he couldn’t rub her muscles with much force, but it still helped.

She didn’t allow herself to sleep, in fear that she might bleed through again. She relaxed on his chest, realizing for the first time, he’d never let her just lie this close to him. There was always space between them when they weren’t joining properly. Snuggling into his shoulder, she hid her smile. He was warm and his chest was soft and she could have fallen asleep.

Could have, had he not gotten up. William eased her back onto his coat, obviously assuming she was sleeping. For a moment, she kept her eyes closed, willing to let him believe that she slumbered.

When she did open her eyes, she saw him sitting on the dirt a few paces away. He was hunched over and appeared to be drawing something in the dirt. He paused to rub his chin, before rubbing away something.

“What are you doing?” Belle asked, sitting.

Turning, she could see she’s surprised him, but not startled. He held out a hand to her, “Come look at this.”

Slowly, Belle crawled to look over his shoulder and saw he’d doodled lines and circles into the dirt.

“What is it?”

“My battle plan,” he said, smiling. He pointed to one circle, “Regina will be here. We,” he pointed to another circle, “will be waiting here. Once she comes, we send men down here,” yet another circle, “And Regina sees them. Half of them split on the way and make their way around here.”

Belle watched him. Confused as to what he was telling her, but he seemed excited about it. “When Regina comes down here, we cut her off from behind.”

He looked to her with a delighted smile, looking like an excited puppy and she couldn’t help but return it, “Sounds brilliant.”

“I think it’ll work.”

She rubbed her hand over his chest, “It sounds like it very well could.”

He was still beaming when her father coughed from the back room. It faded as she stood, “Excuse me.”

Her father still slept on when she opened the door. Before she got the door closed, she felt William behind her. “Is he any better?”

“I’m afraid not,” Belle said quietly and pulled him back to the fire.

“I could have my physician look at him.”

“I—” Belle’s protest caught in her throat. Her reputation meant nothing if her father died, “Maybe. If he doesn’t get better.”

“Of course,” he said and he caught her hand, kissing her knuckles, “I must be going.”

She nodded and tried not to feel saddened by it.

“Feel better, milady,” he said with a smug little smile and kissed her quickly on the cheek.

When she’d seen him out, she saw his coat still lay on the floor. Biting her lip, she picked it up and draped it over her shoulders. It would be warmer than her own blanket and secretly, she hoped he would not ask for it back. She liked having something of his here in her home, proof that he’d been here and had laid in the dirt with her. That night, she took his coat to sleep.

Almost immediately, she found herself, jerking awake, face flushed with her heart pounding, not only in her chest, but deep between her legs. William had been in her dreams and his touch had felt as though he’d really been there in her bed.

She found herself tangled in his coat, and sat up, pushing her messy hair away from her face. Belle still felt the monthly pains in her stomach, but it mixed with the desire, making her feel weak and even more tired.

That was the start of it. All the rest of the week, she’d been feeling a strange mix of wanting which was usually followed by a stab in her stomach. When she wasn’t in pain, there was the different feeling in her stomach—a warm pulsing feeling. It was strong enough even to wake her in the night two more times. She’d had to walk around in the kitchen to quell the feeling, though it never really left.

Just as when she’d seen the blood, when there was none, relief flooded through her. Her pain left her the next day and when she’d called Mary to come look over her father, she set off to the palace. She’d given it no second thought. It was the need to see him which drove her so swiftly from her cozy home. Her father would be in good care with Mary, who was so motherly.

The walk to his palace was even longer in her desperation to get there. Her fingers curled around the small flask she held. Luckily it was a sturdy metal or she might have shattered it.

She was so eager. She’d never felt this kind of impatient longing before. Without her consent, her feet sped her pace. She would be breathless when she arrived, but slowing down was out of the question.

People looked at her as she hurried through the streets of the city. They were familiar to her now and she didn’t have to look up to see where she was going. The path was almost comforting in its familiarity. It wasn’t a new place anymore, wasn’t somewhere she wasn’t welcome.

Finally, she left the city behind her and could see her destination. Belle had to force herself not to run to the gate. There were guards she was beginning to recognize and she needed to keep some kind of composure.

It was, indeed, Eric who greeted her.

“Belle,” he nodded as he pushed open the iron grates.

“Hello Eric,” she said with a smile. The smile was probably too large for a simple greeting, but she couldn’t keep it away as she stepped onto the cobbled stone road.

Still, as she came closer, she kept her eyes low, fingering the small cap of the flask. Even when she was inside and had to ask where William was, she barely looked up. She knew it was irrational; no one would know what she felt. But she was just certain if she met anyone’s gaze, they would know her wicked desires.

William was in his counsel room, she was told, and Belle hoped that she wasn’t disrupting anything of import. When he’d left, he had apparently made some kind of breakthrough in the war. He always eagerly met her, but then again, he’d always been the one to call on her first. If forced to, she thought she could wait, though even the thought made her body protest.

The door was shut tightly and when she pressed her ear to the door, there was conversation, but it was quiet and she couldn’t make out what was said.

Hesitantly, she knocked. The voices instantly quieted. As the footsteps approached, she tapped the flask anxiously.

“Belle?” It was William who opened the door, of which she was grateful. He stood, blocking her view of inside the room, or perhaps blocking her from being seen. He didn’t look unpleased to see her, only confused. “Uh…?”

“You, uh, called for me?” she said, gesturing with the flask. For only a second, his eyes travelled over her, his breath becoming a bit shallow.

“Of course.” When he spoke, he voice was firm, but he licked his lips. “It seemed time has gotten from me. I must finish this,” he said addressing her, his voice quieting to speak directly to her, “Give me a half hour. You may wait in my room.” Pressing a key to her empty palm, he looked her over again, his eyes lingering at the skin her dress revealed at her neck.

“Alright,” she said and he closed the door.

The walk back to his room only made her aching worsen. The fact that she hadn’t disturbed him—or more that he hadn’t minded when she had—was encouraging.

Though she now knew she would be pleasured tonight, but would have to wait a half hour. A half hour was not much. It could have been longer, but what was she to do while she waited? Sit and stare out the window?

The key opened his door easily and when she had it closed, she locked it again. Carefully, she set the flask on the side table and stood for a moment before finally sitting on the bed.

Almost immediately, she started to unlace her bodice. It might not take much of the time, but undressing would give her something to do. She went slowly, taking as much time as she could. When she was only in her chemise, she folded her skirt and placed it neatly with her discarded bodice under the bed.

She ignored the feeling she got when she leaned down. The pressure of her own thighs was starting to make the ache sharper. When she straightened, she folded her leg over the other and squirmed against it.

It became harder and harder to keep her fingers to herself. She interlocked them firmly around her knee. She’d never touched herself. She could, she supposed, but she might never be able to look anyone in the eye again. It would certainly mean she had no ladylike qualities left in her.

To take the edge off, she pulled her legs up under her, her heel pressed against her. After rubbing shamelessly against it for a few unfruitful moments, she struggled as long as she could to keep her hands away from her most intimate parts, but inevitably, she failed. She rubbed her hand between her thighs, pressing the material into herself. It didn’t help as she might have thought, but only made the warmth inside her blaze, without any relief.

The cotton was damp when she slipped her fingers under her chemise, no longer caring what ladylike qualities she retained. The wetness made her fingers slip easily into herself. She let out a quiet breath as her body clenched around herself. The pressure of her own hand was nothing compared to having William in her. His fingers were larger than hers and his… manly part was much bigger, thicker, stronger. Her fingers were clumsy; she didn’t know how he moved his fingers to excite her, but just turning her fingers about brought enough sensation.

She stroked herself, thinking of the times she’d touched the thing between his legs. Images, she found, helped her to completion. She remembered how he had inserted his tongue into her and she whimpered, hunching over on herself. His teeth had found a place that had sent shocks through her. She searched for it with sticky fingers and when she finally grazed it, swallowed down another whimper.

Then, loud, deafening knocks at the door sent Belle’s heart jumping and her fingers snapped away from herself.

“Father?” It was Bay’s voice. She stayed silent for a few minutes, her heart beating wildly, guilt making her face hot.

Eventually, his footsteps carried him away and Belle sighed, rubbing her sticky fingers on the hem of her chemise. Lying back on the bed, she fisted her hands at her side, letting the thumping between her thighs be until William came for her.


	8. Chapter 8

The fact that Belle awaited him all but broke his concentration. Everything they’d been going over for the last two hours was lost on him.

Finally, when they’d finished, he made sure to lean more heavily on his cane. He paused to make his request of Eric and rubbed his leg in long strokes. Eric complied without question and William watched him leave. He was starting to like the boy more and more. No questions were good.

William took his time walking the stairs as well. Though it wasn’t much of a show. Being on his feet most of the day made climbing two flights of stairs torture. When he tried the door, he wasn’t surprised to find it locked. He knocked twice and then called for her, looking over his shoulder as if they might get caught.

Belle peeked out of the door before letting him in. She stood before him in only her chemise, fingering the key, “Bay was looking for you.”

“He can wait,” William said, smirking at her, “You’re obviously ready to get on with this.”

The bright red color flushing her face never ceased to amuse him. He stepped forward and took the key from her. With the door locked, William bent closer to her, tossing the key to the ground. His lips brushed over the hot skin of her cheek. Belle didn’t give him time to linger; she turned her head to him, matching his lips to hers.

Without a moment’s hesitation, she was pulling him to the bed. He barely could get his jacket off before Belle demanded his mouth again. She started working on his clothing along with him, stripping him of each article until he was completely naked.

It wasn’t until then did Belle pull back to look over him. Her eyes wandered over all him and William pushed away the uncomfortable scrutiny of it by pulling at the rest of her clothing. Once it was gone, Belle had finished looking and kissed him again. Her lips were hurried and impatient and not how Belle had ever kissed him before.

Though his knee was painful, he knelt over her as she lay down on the mattress. Hopefully, the flask she’d brought really did contain medicine. After they were both satisfied, perhaps his leg could also be relieved. For now, Belle’s eagerness was reason enough to overlook any of his own pain.

Curious, William trailed his hand between her thighs and his fingers met thoroughly wet flesh. He grinned again against her mouth. “Very ready, I see.”

Keeping her hold on him, Belle nodded, “For days.”

When she touched his neck, she left a wet trail along his throat. He pulled back just enough to catch her hand. He could smell her own scent on her fingertips. A lick of his tongue and he’d got the answer that he had wanted.

“Have a bit of your own fun without me, dear?”

“What?”

Immediately, she stopped touching him. William almost felt guilty for commenting, but he guided her fingers back to his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, her face going red again.

“Still concerned with being a lady?” he asked around her fingertips. Belle didn’t meet his eyes and he nipped at her.

“Please don’t tease me,” she said and he quickly tried to assure her he didn’t mock her.

“Every other ‘lady’ I’ve known has found her own pleasure and never been ashamed of it,” slowly he leaned back from her, easing himself further down her stomach. The small taste of her on her fingers was not enough to leave him satisfied, “Go ahead and tell your sister that. Since she is so concerned with you being a lady.”

Even though she was still a little pink, Belle smiled at that. She watched him move lower and when he ducked his head between her legs, he heard the small breath she let out. He licked through her, a long, dragging lick to allow him as much as he could.

William glanced up, only to have her hand burrow into his hair and press him back to her. He nuzzled and licked and breathed her entirely and, when he resurfaced, they were both breathless. Belle had leaned back in the pillows and her chest heaved as she panted.

“Why do you like to taste?”

Shrugging, William pulled himself over her. “Out of all the girls to share my bed, you taste the best.” He kissed her while her taste still resonated on his tongue.

He was ready and hard for her just as she was ready for him. He’d had enough touching, and his body screamed to be engulfed by her.

When he pushed himself inside, he went slowly, taking his time to feel the way her walls parted for him and molded against him. Belle’s gasp was quiet, but William was listening for it and it was clear in his ear. She wrapped herself entirely around him, arms encircling his shoulders and back while her legs hooked around his hips and backside. It was as if she were trying to keep him locked against her like she worried he would pull away.

Still, he went slowly. Each thrust memorized every ridge inside of her, enjoying every inch of her he could reach. He fit so deeply inside of her and she heatedly melted around him. Belle’s excitement had taken his mind off his own, but once he was sheathed inside her, William’s wanting drove away any thought. His entire concentration was on her body, her heat, her taste.

He couldn’t seem to make his body move faster of his own accord. His hips had found their own low deep rhythm, but Belle was already starting to tighten around him, forcing him to push harder to gain access. The tighter she became, the quicker he moved, finally finding the pleasure to spur him onward.

Her movements started to match his, her hips lifting from the mattress. There was something different in the sounds she made. Even the feeling of her was different. When she finally burst around him, it was still different as if her own orgasm was flitting though him in sharp waves.

Her hands yanked at his hair and whimpered out few words he could not make out. The stream of her indistinct murmuring abruptly stopped and she clenched even tighter around him. The sudden gripping caused him to jerk involuntarily forward into her, releasing himself deep within her.

The feeling surprised him, thinking she’d already found her pleasure. It was continuing to build inside her, making her whimper into his shoulder. They rocked into each other, neither one of them able to breathe. William couldn’t remember the last time anything had felt the way Belle did. Everything burned into him, draining him for more than what he’d already spent.

When she finally loosened, she let out a breath, sounding more like a sob. If William could have made any sound, he assumed it would have sounded similar. Belle loosened her fingers in his hair, leaving his scalp stinging. His own fists only opened when he forced them to. The blankets were rumpled from where he’d held them and his palms ached from where his fingers dug into them.

“That wasn’t the first time…that you…” William swallowed down air, “It was different.”

Belle shook her head, rubbing the perspiration gathering at her brow. “No,” she breathed. “Just bigger.”

Nodding, William slumped against her.

“Oh, God,” she breathed out, rubbing his back.

“Bigger,” he repeated with a small laugh. He knew he could pull out of her, but the memory of her being so tight around him kept him within her. It had been so long since he’d been with another woman. Had they ever responded to him in such a way? He couldn’t remember. Now, however, it was only Belle he could remember.

“Can I ask you…” Belle hesitated for a second. “How old are you?”

“What?” The question was sudden and made his mouth go dry. The blissfulness that had settled over him was over-shrouded by the one question he’d hoped he would never have to answer.

“How old are you?” she repeated, looking at him with a pleading look.

“Uh…” William shook his head, “I’m older than you.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“And exactly how old are you?” William asked, though he knew he wouldn’t want to know if she told him. But, as he thought she might, she didn’t answer him.

“I asked you,” Belle said firmly.

Feeling uncomfortable when she touched his cheek, where every wrinkle he’d ever seen in the mirror was suddenly the only thought in his mind, he pulled himself from her and lay on the bed. “I asked you as well.”

Belle looked at him and he looked at her. Eventually Belle nodded and looked away, “Then I guess neither of us will ever know.”

“I suppose not.”

The swirl pattern of the canopy held his attention until Belle spoke.

“I—I should take a bath,” Belle said, biting her lip. When she sat up, William followed, letting his eyes fall away from the ceiling.

“Have I offended you?”

“No. I just wondered…”

“Then…perhaps the bath is big enough to accommodate two?”

The softening of her features into a smile was almost instant and she nodded. “I think it could. If we squeeze together.”

It wasn’t until he actually tried to stand did he remember his leg. He almost collapsed under his own weight and Belle caught him.

“Wait here,” she said, settling him back on the bed. The flask she’d brought sat on the other side of the bed. Once she’d retrieved it, she climbed back across the bed and scooted closer to him. The balm was creamy and, though it might have been because the room was dark, looked to have a purple tint to it. When it connected with his skin it stung with heat, though it was pleasant. He could only slump back into the bedding and let Belle massage it into his leg.

“Thank you,” he said when the pain had lessened. It had only taken a few moments for him to feel the effects and it was easing the pain away with every second.

“It’s no problem,” she smiled as she continued to rub his leg. He kept his eyes open, taking in her body while she sat so openly before him. Belle was so involved in rubbing his knee that she didn’t notice he’d sat up until he slipped a hand under her arm to touch her breast.

Her hands stilled and she smiled, “So soon?”

Smiling as he caressed her, he leaned his head to the side to get a better look at what he was touching, “I’m suddenly feeling quite invigorated. I think it’s your medicine.”

Again, she smiled and placed her hand over his. “Perhaps a bath first?”

“Of course.” He stood and was surprised to feel barely any pain when he put his weight on it. The ointment still seeped down through his bones almost like magic. There wasn’t even a need for his cane as he and Belle started to the washroom.

She went to grab her chemise and he waved it away, “Leave it.”

“I feel strange,” she said, though she dropped it to the floor. “Walking around with no clothing on.”

“It’s something you’ll have to get used to if you’re here.” William smirked at her while he closed the door to the washroom behind them. The tub was already filled and warming by the fire, ready for his use whenever he needed. Belle tested the water with a finger before stepping in.

William settled in the basin, and pulled her against him to press as close as he could.

“How long will the medicine last?”

“It should last the rest of the night.” She trailed a finger along his scar lightly.

“Where did you get it?”

“I made it.”

“You? And where did you learn to make such a powerful medicine?”

“My mother. She taught me to make many things.”

“Did she teach you how to make your hair smell like…” he buried his nose in her hair and flowers he decided. Her hair smelt of flowers, “Roses?”

“She used to say that the only difference between us and royalty was hygiene.”

“Smart woman,” William said.

The small bar of soap rested on the side of the basin and William took it, remembering how his soap had smelled on her. He mixed the water with the suds and watched it roll off her back.

“Do you do this with all of your girls?” she asked after a few moments.

“All of my girls?”

“’The other girls who share your bed’. Do come to their homes when they’re ill, or give them money, or you bathe with them?”

“No,” he said, still aimlessly running his hands over her arms and back. She was silent. “I didn’t even do this with my wife.”

“But you do it with me?”

William swallowed. Yes, he did. But he didn’t like to let himself think about why. He enjoyed her, enjoyed being with her. It was as simple as that. “You have objections to it?”

Laughing, she shook her head, “No.”

“What makes you think I still have those other girls?”

Suddenly, she went pink and ducked her head away. “Well…you’ve always been so…eager.”

No doubt she referred to the fact he was getting harder the longer she sat between his legs. William shifted his hips, nudging her backside and she stifled a small laugh.

“You don’t wait for me when I’m not here.”

“You sound very certain of that.”

“Well, you don’t…do you?”

“How do you think I stay so ready for you?”

Again, she flushed and he hugged her closer, making sure she could feel him. “And I have one mistress,” he leaned forward to look her in the eye. “I think her name was Matilda…or something.”

“Was?”

“I…” William licked his lips. He did not like being forced to examine these questions. Could he not simply enjoy Belle’s presence without needing his motives analyzed? “I haven’t seen her in about a month.”

“Why?”

“She grew tiresome. And I prefer your company.”

“But, she’s your mistress…If you don’t call on her…will people start to notice?”

Sighing, William nodded. “Bay has mentioned it.”

“Your son notices a lot.”

“You are hard to miss. You…Do you want me to call on her?”

Belle didn’t answer him right away. When she did she took a deep breath, “Maybe you should.”

The answer surprised him. He knew enough about relationships with women to know they usually did not like other women to be involved. Frankly, he didn’t want another girl involved.

Belle spoke again, “If people are asking questions, then…”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

The expression she wore didn’t conceal her negative feelings to the idea, but she nodded. “You’re the king. I have no claim to you.”

“If you wish it,” he said. He took her hand and kissed the top of it. Belle turned he head to watch him, chewing her bottom lip. He raised an eyebrow, looking at her over their hands.

“Do I grow too tiresome for you?” she asked with a grin that bordered on the side of shrewd.

“Not at all. If anything I worry I drain your strength. Am I too eager for you, milady?” Kissing her hand again, he watched her try to hide her smile.

“I don’t think that will be a problem. Not tonight anyway,” she added, looking away from him. “Trying to go without…I don’t know how I’ll get through next month,” Belle said as William released her hand to run his fingertips over her.

“Mm,” his hands stilled on her stomach, “And you’re no longer in pain?”

“No.”

“Is it always the same? Every month just as painful?”

“Always. The advantages of being a woman,” she spoke placing one hand over his on her stomach and the other she wrapped around his knee poking up from the water. “Last month was the same, next month will be the same. Well, if it comes next month…” The last bit was murmured to herself and she bit her lip, as if she hadn’t meant to say it.

“If?”

“I—” Belle was watching him closely, “There were a few days when I thought that…I might have…been with child.”

William stared at their hands on her stomach and swallowed down his first sarcastic response in favor of, “Oh.”

“And if I had been?” she asked, her voice unsure.

“I—I honestly don’t know,” he answered. A new child would undoubtedly be different. There was Bay, who he loved dearly…but a child with Belle…would certainly be unlike than his experience raising his son. To raise a child with a woman who seemed to genuinely like him—care for him even—was something he’d hoped of, but never received.

But society would never allow it. If she kept the child without marrying him she would be ruined, but if he married her, he would be disgraced.

Belle released his hands and made to stand, taking his silence as some kind of rejection. He caught her arm, “Belle, not about my feelings. I would be happy. I would love him.”

“You would?”

“Of course,” he assured her. “What we did about it… that would be up to you.”

Settling back against him, she nodded and wrapped his arms back around her “Her.”

“Hm?”

“You said you would love him. It could be a girl.”

William smiled. He’d always wanted more children but was not fortunate enough for a wife to allow it. He’d always wanted a daughter. Kissing her neck, he nodded, “She’d be beautiful like her mother. Hopefully not with her father’s personality.”

He didn’t have to see her smile to know it was there as she stroked his arms. But when she spoke, he saw he was wrong. “I suppose…”

“What is it?”

When she did smile, it was sad. “You don’t have to pretend.”

“Pretend what?”

“That we have a future together,” she said quietly.

William didn’t speak for a long while. He could try to object to that, but he was trying to picture his future. Belle was there for sure, but there wasn’t anything else. He could only see this, see Belle lying with him. With or without her clothing didn’t matter, whether she stayed or left in the morning wasn’t clear, but Belle was there. That much was certain.

“I know you don’t keep your girls long.”

“Yes, but,” he slipped his hands further around her waist, “I didn’t truly enjoy them.”

Belle looked at him with a skeptic look, but he kissed her shoulder and she smiled. “You must have enjoyed them at one point.”

“Perhaps. But,” he said, kissing up her jaw. The end of her hair was wet and clung to her neck. “You’re sitting here in my bath. Naked in my lap.” Her skin warmed when he’d said that, “And I’ve yet to take advantage of it. I would say that’s something different.”

Smiling, she turned to face him and press her lips to his. Within seconds he’d found his way between her legs. A few strokes between her thighs and the throbbing in his own body grew to become a very demanding pounding.

The position they sat in wasn’t going to be amiable to what he wanted. But when he sat up, Belle pulled away. His hands were still buried in her. She licked her lips as she gave a breathless laugh, “Not taking advantage?”

Shrugging, he leaned in for her again. Belle folded to him for only a moment, rubbing the back of his hand while he stroked her. It was only for a few seconds and she pulled back, taking his hand away.

William watched her stand, admiring the way the water rolled off her skin. “Done already?” He stood behind her and caught her arms.

“I need to be going.”

The water was already starting to dry off him and he pulled her back to his front. “Why?”

“My father—”

“Oh did I forget to mention?” He slipped his hands around to her breasts and rubbed them as he kissed her behind the ear, “I sent Eric to look after him tonight. There’s no need to rush off.”

“Then why did we just bathe?”

“Pleasure?” he tried and when she gave a small giggle, he closed his fingers around her, “We’ll have to make sure we clean you again in the morning.” William shrugged and pinched her lightly. Smiling at her little gasp, he stepped out of the tub, “The bed, milady?”

For the second it took her to answer, he worried she would say no. Biting her lip, she finally nodded and let him guide her back into his chambers. Still dripping wet, they slipped under the covers and Belle nuzzled into the pillows. William wasn’t sure if she was conscious of the small action, but after seeing the home she lived in, he slipped in behind her and waited for her to have her enjoyment of the pillows.

Wrapping his arms around her, he closed his eyes and let his hands wander wherever they seemed drawn to. The longer he lay behind her, the longer he toyed with her breasts, he became even harder, blood pulsing through him in waves.

“Does…what’s it called?” Belle asked quietly.

“It?”

“Your…” She reached between her own legs to touch between his. His hips lurched forward at her touch and he wrapped his hands tighter around her. “My mother only lived long enough to explain… women’s anatomy.”

“It’s called a penis, dear,” he chuckled a bit, “A Johnson sometimes. Or a cock—”

“Like a peacock?” Belle burst, giggling, “And what about me…Do I have different names?”

“Oh, yes, many.” He pressed a kiss to her neck, smiling as he let his hands travel lower, “I’ve heard it called many vulgar names. Pussy being—”

Her giggling got louder and he paused his hands, just on her thighs. “Well, why don’t we just name all our body parts after animals? If yours is a peacock and mine is a pussy cat, then we can call my feet…ducks and, when you forget to shave, your chin can be a wolf.”

“Hmm,” he rubbed his cheek against her jaw, scraping his stubble over her skin. “And, I suppose, if I’m a wolf and you’re a cat, it’s only in my nature to pursue you.”

As his hands trailed along her, Belle’s laughter gave way to quiet breaths. Already, William was on the brink of releasing himself. He wouldn’t be able to last long enough to take her properly. His fingers could bring certain pleasure.

She arched her back into him, making his palms chase after her. A small bit of water still clung to her skin, but between her legs was her own wetness.

She was tight around his fingers when he slipped into her and her knees clamped together. His fingers dug into her, but it was only when he pushed his own leg between her knees did he get enough room to work in her properly.

Still, she rubbed back into him, helping to add friction to his own skin. William kept himself raised on his elbow to allow kisses to her jaw. Belle leaned her head back on his exposed shoulder and curled her fingers around his forearms. All the while, he kept his eyes open and he dipped another finger into her.

The sounds of her breaths were loud and she let her hips move forward into his hand. His other hand was pinned under her but he worked it low enough to touch her.

The way she moved had him tense and, to keep his body controlled, he stilled any of his own movements. Her throat was still bared to him and the urge to take the skin in his mouth was too much to resist. He couldn’t leave a mark and he pulled it in his teeth lightly.

Belle made a sound as if to speak, but he flipped his thumb across the overly sensitive bud, killing her voice beneath his mouth. She ground into him when repeated the action, stroke over the same place again and again. Before he could bite down too hard, he released the flesh on her neck. The skin was red and wet with his saliva, but there would be no mark.

Pressed against her as he was, he could feel when she started to tense. It took a bit more effort than it had to bring her this time—quicker strokes, more of them, deeper—but she had started to squirm into him. Where her foot rested atop his, her toes curled around him. Her eyes squeezed shut and the sound of her breathing ceased for a few long moments. Not even a second passed and she shuddered, her inner walls contracting to pull at his two fingers.

“Beautiful,” he whispered when she finally relaxed. Her eyes were closed and as he rubbed his cheek against hers, she laughed, “So a cat can be content with a wolf?”

“Mm,” was all she got to murmur as he was already moving against her, pulling his knee from between her to let his hardness slip between her thighs.

Belle leaned back into him, again slipping her own fingers between her legs. They came up to stroke the underside of him as he rubbed into her. His fingers still rested inside her. When he pulled them away, the wetness seeped from her, dampening his own skin. Groaning as he rubbed the head of him into her palm, his body quaked. His fingers clenched around her thighs trying to keep the pleasure pulsing through him.

When he spilled himself, he added to the already sticky mess between her legs. Belle had taken her hand away and was examining the milky fluid he’d left on her. Hesitantly, she brought a finger to her mouth and poked the tip of her tongue out.

There certainly was a reaction to it, though William wasn’t sure what it was. Her eyebrows furrowed and she licked her lips a few times. Still too elated from releasing himself, he could only laugh.

“Well?”

“It’s…different,” Belle wiped her hand on the bedding beside her. “You never did answer my question.”

“What question is that, dear?”

There was a moment of pause and when Belle spoke again, she was quiet and avoided looking anywhere but at the pillow, “If I’m too young.”

William sighed, feeling like he needed to remove his hands from her. When he tried, Belle caught them and hugged him back around her. “You don’t have to tell me…about you…Just—” she closed her eyes and bit her lip. “You still call me girl…”

Girl? He supposed he had.

“Do you not see me as a woman?”

“Ah,” he said and closed his eyes, knowing he’d have to phrase his response correctly.

But Belle spoke again.

“You have lived so much more than I have and even Bay is—”

“Belle,” he interrupted her, kissing her neck. “Bay is a good boy—man. But he has had an easy life. You have lived more, lived through more, than half the people I know.”

It was comfortable here with Belle in his arms, hugging her as if she were a pillow. They lay still for long enough for sleep to start to descended. His eyes closed and when she spoke, he barely comprehended what she was saying. “You’re really not going to tell me how old you are?”

“Not unless you tell me.” His voice lulled together and Belle’s response was lost on him.

***

It was still dark when he was awoken. Belle leaned over him, shaking his shoulder.

“What is it?” he asked, sleepily sitting up.

“It’s Bay,” she said and that was when he heard the frantic knocking on the door.

Still feeling as if he were half asleep, he nodded. Belle caught him as he stood, handing him a night shirt. She was already wearing one and he shrugged it on before opening the door. The darkness in the room made it difficult to find the key on the floor, but with a few blind reaches, he’d located it. A small stream of light flooded into the room, lighting only the small space around the door.

Bay held a single candle, lighting his worried expression, “Father, you have to come. Now.”

“What is it, Bay?”

“Regina. She’s demanding you come to her. Or she will come to us.”

“Ready the carriage,” William said, rubbing his eyes while he closed the door. When he turned, Belle was already dressing. He followed suit and pulled a fresh pair of trousers from his wardrobe. “I won’t be able to take you home, but I’ll have another carriage brought around.”

“Thank you.” She didn’t look up as she hastily tied the ribbon at her throat. Once he’d gotten his coat on, he waved her over and she hurried out into the hall. There was still no pain in his knee, but he made sure to grab his cane.

Bay was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, looking surprised to see Belle with him. He bowed his head a bit and at William’s command ran to call for another coachman.

With a small kiss on her lips, he ducked out to the carriage. There were twenty horses surrounding his black carriage. William knew the riders were his best soldiers he had. They would be safe, but Bay was still anxious; he was fidgety and tapped his foot in a quick, irritating manner.

“Calm down, Boy. This isn’t the first time we’ve met like this. The church is secure—”

“I know…” Bay still stared out the window. “I don’t trust the priest. He has…motives.”

“Bay, he’s a man of God. He’s a good man.”

His son didn’t answer and William closed his eyes. This meeting was not what he was looking forward to, but he had faith in Father Kelvin. By the time they’d arrived, William had managed to get a few more minutes sleep. Once he woke again, he took a few seconds to blink sleep away.

Regina stood in the large doorway, a purple parasol over her shoulder and her gold tiara nestled in her dark hair. Her clothing was showy and low cut, and she stood with her chest out as if daring William to look. He had no eyes for her, though. He’d never had eyes for her.

Kelvin stood next to her, looking anything but worried. His arms were crossed behind him and his rosary hung around his neck.

Bay walked a few paces behind as William strode toward them. He still walked with his cane, but instead of leaning on it, he swung it along, barely letting it hit the floor. “Father,” he said with a small nod. The priest smiled back, but Regina demanded his attention.

“Billy.” The queen beamed at him, holding her hand out. She expected him to kiss it and as always, he shook her hand like he would another man.

“Regina,” he said dryly. Then, turning to Father Kelvin, “Should we go inside.”

“Yes, of course.”

The interior of the church was simple. A few pews across from the altar and a table of lit candles in the corner were the only furniture in the chapel. The table in the back room was set up to accommodate them. Father Kelvin sat at the head and gestured for Regina and William to sit with his one hand. The nub where his other hand was missing was covered in brown material. Kelvin hadn’t always been a priest, and William never asked what had happened.

“You have my man,” Regina said immediately.

“I’m sorry Dear, did you not get my previous letter?” William scooted his chair closer to the table, glancing at the door. Bay stood with his arms folded, leaning away from Regina’s own henchman. “I do not have your soldier.”

“You’re lying.”

“Am I?”

“Where is he?”

“Somewhere off in the forest if I had to guess.”

“You little bastard. I swear to God—”

Regina was leaning forward on the table and Kelvin put out his arm, “Please, your majesty, there’ll be no cursing in my church.”

Sighing, she nodded. “Bill, you tell me—”

“Oh, I will tell you. He gave me very helpful information.”

Behind him, Bay stepped forward, “Father—”

William silenced him with a wave of his hand, “It’s alright.”

“He told you…what? That I would be carried down by fairies to infiltrate your kingdom?”

“No, dearie, he told us exactly what you were planning.”

The expression on her face froze only for a moment. “Well, now that you’re here what makes you think I won’t kill you now.”

“Your majesty,” Kelvin warned. “There’ll be no bloodshed either.”

Regina took no notice of him as William spoke, “Because we both like to play on an even field. Enemies worthy of a fair battle.”

“Yes, I suppose we do…”

“Good. My merchants will be pleased to know their harbor is safe,” William stood and hid his own smirk when Regina’s lips curled.

“Your harbor?”

“Yes, I assume you will no longer be coming by boat. Or should I still have my navy ready for your attack next month?”

The queen rubbed her gloved fingers over her chin and smiled at him, “No. Even playing field, right?”

“Exactly.”

When he stood, a dull ache had settled back into his knee and he needed to lean more on his cane. Regina called after him, “Goodbye Billy!”

Bay hurried after him, only speaking once they were ushered back into the carriage. He was smiling and William let out a deep chuckle.

Regina took the bait too easily. Yes, she certainly had expected William to have information. But she was all too willing to believe that Graham had given him the wrong information. His harbor was never in danger. It still wouldn’t be. Her strategy would never change and William would still be ready for her.


	9. Chapter 9

There was a letter awaiting Belle when she returned home. Instantly, she recognized her sister’s handwriting and rushed into her father.

Eric was at his bedside, picking at a string on his shirt. When she entered, he stood quietly. Her father breathed heavily with sleep and he ushered her from the room.

“How was your night, Miss Belle?”

“It…” Belle swallowed, unsure of what answer she could give. “The king was restless.”

“Yes, he does get that way. Your father…how long has he been this way?”

“A while.”

“Forgive me if I speak out of turn, but…the king has physicians.” Eric glanced back at her father’s room, “As a friend, I would assume he’s offered his assistance?”

“He has. I—I’ve refused. Unless there are no other ways. I don’t want to rely on him more than I already do.”

Eric nodded, “Of course. Is there anything else I may help with?”

“No, just being here was enough,” Belle assured him and he nodded.

“Thank you, miss,” he gave a little bow and retreated from her home. She watched until he closed the door, then, a moment later, she remembered the letter still in her hands.

William’s cloak still lay on her small bed and Belle pulled it around her as she settled to read the parchment. The first line made Belle smile sadly. ‘Tell me good news. Tell me father is still with us.’ The next few lines were of how their journey was, how their home was a mess when they arrived, how Henry hadn’t stopped talking about the king.

Emma had ended her letter when Jefferson’s handwriting was crammed onto the rest of the page. His writing was always difficult to read, but in such a small, unplanned space, it was near impossible. What he wrote wasn’t necessarily important, teasing her about her time spent with William and in the end saying they would be praying for his money. Belle rolled her eyes and set it on the ground beside her.

Leaning back against the wall, Belle pulled the cloak up around her shoulders. The smell of him had started to fade, but it still kept her warm. When she used it, she felt somewhat guilty. Her father could use the extra warmth as well, but she couldn’t bring herself to part with it. All the blankets had gone to her father and she had nothing else to use for warmth.

Belle didn’t exactly want sleep, but she was tired. She wanted to sit for a while and she didn’t see the harm in it since her father was sleeping as well. He’d call if he needed anything.

She was left to doze for a good time before her father’s coughing roused her.

When she entered his room, he was sitting up, leaning over the edge of the bed. Belle came in just to see him pushing the chamber pot back under the bed.

“Are you alright, papa?” Belle hurried over to him to help him lie back.

“Yes, yes. I’ll be alright,” but his breathing wheezed even when he was still. Then she saw it. A dark wet smear on his lips. She took her handkerchief and blotted at his mouth until the blood was cleaned away. He didn’t stir—didn’t even seem to realize she’d touched him.

Before tears started to cloud her eyes, she stood and left the room. Emma’s letter still rested on the table and she sat down ink and quill in hand

I’m afraid father’s taken a turn for the worse. I found him coughing blood this morning. I’m calling for a doctor, a good doctor. Please try not to fret. I’ll send word again after he’s been seen.

Immediately, she started another letter. This one was much harder to write. Asking William for something, even something he’d offered her, she felt like the peasant she was. Unsure of how to address it, to William or his majesty, she opted not to address it at all, simply stating if he was still willing offer his physician’s help, it would be greatly appreciated. She ended the letter with her thanks and her name.

It would have been preferable to go to the castle herself, but the few minutes it took to find a messenger, she had to rush home in fear that her father would pass while she was gone. The boy she’d entrusted the letter with gave his word to be quick. Her father’s coughing greeted her, somewhat to her relief. Coughing meant he was still alive.

Again, he was slumped over the chamber pot, this time he had it in his arms as he spit out the bloody mess.

“Belle, might you bring me some water?” he asked as she lay him back down.

“Of course,” she assured him. “I’ve called for a doctor as well. And I’ll make you some of mama’s tea.”

He closed his eyes and nodded, “Thank you, my dear.”

First, she brought him water so he could wash any blood from his mouth. She emptied the pot, leaving the grass outside red. The tea she’d started was meant to soothe a sore throat, but Belle supposed it would have to do. There was nothing else she could think of to help him. He was coughing again as she poured his cup.

At least, when she entered again, there was no blood. He had his hand on his chest and let the fit die down before taking the tea from her.

He sipped at it quietly, sighing as the last of it was drunk. “Reminds me of your mother.”

“It always made us feel better,” she smiled sadly, taking the cup.

“Belle, I know she taught you well, but… promise me you’ll be careful with this.” He made a small gesture to the cup, “Promise not to be reckless. I don’t want you to share her fate.”

“I won’t, papa,” Belle lowered her eyes. She hadn’t even thought that. She already was being reckless. That would be the last of it. No more tea. No more healing lotion for William.

Oh, God.

She’d already given it to William. He hadn’t seemed to wonder where it had come from, but if he thought on it, would he wonder where she’d gotten such a recipe? Would he believe her if she told him it wasn’t ‘witchcraft’?

Once outside her father’s room, she leaned against the wall. The spoon rattled against the cup and she tried to still her hand from shaking. She had to get rid of it. She’d called or a doctor and he wouldn’t recognize the tea. There was still an entire pot waiting and only filling the cup once more, she poured it out the window.

Belle woke her father to drink the last cup of tea before the doctor could arrive. Once he’d finished, he drifted instantly back to sleep.

There wasn’t much she could do while she waited. She scrubbed away the evidence of the tea but when that was finished, built up the fire and sat before it. Before long, her stomach started to ache with emptiness. There was still a little food left in their kitchen, but she didn’t want to eat it just yet. It had to last as long as it could.

So she waited, stomach protesting, and feeling overall uneasy. Belle remembered that there was some kind of business William needed to attend to, but it was almost dusk and he still hadn’t come. It had had something to do with the war and could have very possibly been dangerous. The thought made her even more anxious.

Finally, she found herself standing and making her way to the kitchen. The small loaf of bread was starting to go hard, but it was still edible. It quelled the worst of the pain in her stomach. Breaking off another piece, she entered her father’s room quietly. He slept on and she left the bread next to the bed, wanting to let him rest.

She wasn’t sure how deeply he slept; usually he snored like a dog, but all the sound inside the room was quiet, labored breaths. She adjusted his blankets around him, and dumped the bloodied chamber pot as quietly as she could.

Her attempts to be silent were ruined when there was a thundering knock on the front door. Belle told her father to return to sleep and rushed to the door before they could knock again.

The door opened to reveal a stranger. An old, decrepit man with a white beard and a shoulder bag swinging at his side. But behind him, she spotted William and she sighed, letting the man enter.

“You came,” her eyes stung with the flood of relief she felt and he put a hand on her shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, but I came as soon as I was home.”

“Miss, where is he?” The old man had the strap of his bag clutched in his bony fingers and Belle immediately led him forward.

“Back here.” She held the door open for the men and watched as the physician went straight to the bed. Belle lingered at the door, unsure of where she would be wanted. The old man bent down, listening to her father’s breathing.

“How long has he been ill?”

“Almost a year now,” she explained. “It’s only been worse today, though.”

William was standing in the middle of the room, looking as unsure of what to do as Belle felt. But he met her eyes and took half a step toward her, before the doctor straightened up. “Alright, you can wait outside miss, don’t need a woman’s help just yet.”

Knowing it would be useless to protest, Belle nodded and returned to her chair by the fire. She kept her eyes on her father’s door, anxious for any sort of news. When William stepped out, Belle leapt to her feet, but the doctor didn’t exit with him.

“What does he say?”

“A lot of medical nonsense. Nothing I can understand,” William confessed. He stepped to her, taking one of her hands. “He is hopeful, though. He thinks he may have something.”

“Thank you for coming,” she said, her throat felt tight again and she looked away before he could see the few tears that escaped her. Still, he put an arm around her and eased her onto the chair. He stood at her side while they waited, stroking her hair and even once bending to kiss the top of her head. Eventually, he rearranged himself to sit on the arm rest of her chair, taking his weight off of his knee.

The longer they sat, the more anxious Belle felt. William seemed to sense it, touching her more and more, trying to offer her more comfort. She wanted to lean into him, to let him hold her, but she couldn’t move. Her arms were locked in front of her, folded in her lap. Her ankles crossed under the seat.

When the doctor finally emerged from her father’s room, William immediately seized his hand from her back, but Belle could still not find use of her limbs. He was still packing whatever he’d used into his bag but when he looked up, he smiled.

“It isn’t fatal,” he assured her.

“Oh, thank god.” All the stiffness drained from her and she slumped over, resting her elbows on her knees. William rubbed her back, higher on her shoulders this time.

“Just keep his strength up, give him my medicine every day, I’ve left in by his bed. He should make a decent enough recovery,” he was still smiling, William was smiling. Belle forced herself to do the same.

“Yes, of course.” She pushed herself from the chair and curtsied to him, “Thank you.”

When the doctor looked to William, he waved him off, “Wait for me in the carriage a minute.”

“Yes, your highness.” With a bowed head, he shuffled through the door.

“This is good news,” he said, eyeing her. “You don’t look pleased.”

“No, I—I am…” she glanced back at her father’s room when another coughing fit sounded through. “We barely have enough to keep him at this state, let alone give him enough strength to recover.”

William surveyed the little room, his eyes taking in the emptiness of her small kitchen. Where vegetables were supposed to be, there was an empty bowl. The hardening bread looked even more meager in the desolate surroundings.

“Here, take this,” William rummaged through his pockets, “I won’t let you refuse.” Belle fought the urge to oppose him. It was no time to be prideful. She would accept it, if it meant saving her father.

“And what do I tell them, when they ask where I got…gold?” she exclaimed when he’d taken his hand away to reveal gold coins. There would be no question as to where she’d gotten gold. No one in this village was rich enough to have gold. Another selfish rejection came to her and she bit it down. Belle would just have to prepare herself for every mocking insult that would come at her. She would have to. For her father’s sake.

“You’re right,” he said. She started to speak when he went to retrieve the coins, but he shook his head. “I will do it. I’ll have everything you need by tomorrow.”

“No, I’ll do it.”

“I’ll add it to the kitchen list. No one will know,” he reached a hand out to touch her cheek.

“I’m not afraid of them. I can do it.”

“I know,” he chuckled, “But why ask you to when I can. Expect me tomorrow afternoon.”

“Thank you,” she said and his answer was a kiss. He reached for her and would have stayed longer if she had not pulled away.

“You should go before your doctor becomes restless.”

“He obeys me. He won’t come in,” he wound his arm around her and she shook her head. “You’ve received good news…”

“Go,” she slipped away from him, well aware of her father so close to them. His eyes travelled over her and his tongue wet his lips before he finally turned away.

The doctor’s medicine gave her father rest for the rest of the night. It wasn’t instant; he still coughed periodically, but the blood was less and less. By morning, his cough was dry and less powerful in his chest.

“Belle, Belle, enough,” he finally said when she fussed over his blankets again. “Go to bed, you look exhausted. I’ll keep for a few hours.”

He patted her hand and waved her off. But she never made it to her bedroom. A carriage outside caught her attention. She could see through the window, it was stopping in front of her home. It wasn’t William’s; it was too plain to be his, but it was more elegant than anything Belle’s family owned.

She paused when she opened the door. It was Gaston coming toward her.

“Where did you get that?” she asked when he was close enough to her. He was dressed in new clothing, more expensive than anything she’d ever seen him in before.

“Might I come in?” he asked, his tone formal. He’d never asked permission to enter her home before. The instant she nodded, he was past her, pushing into the house.

“What’s going on?” Belle followed him, leaving the door open, “Where did you get the money for a carriage? And tailored clothes?”

“I have regretful news,” he folded his hands in front of him, his eyes down. “Just know I had to do what was right for me and I needed to take action where my parents could not.”

“What are you talking about?” Belle demanded. Still he wouldn’t look at her and as he wrung his hands, he saw he was fingering a ring on his left finger.

“I have taken a wife,” he said, finally looking up when his words were out.

“Excuse me?”

“I have been…wed. Three days ago.”

“Married?” she repeated, wanting him to confirm it again. He nodded.

“To a widow the village over.”

“One with money,” she snapped.

“Yes…” At least he had the good sense to look guilty of what he’d done.

“And what of our engagement?”

Gaston swallowed and his eyes fell on her left hand, “I’ve come for the ring.”

Instinctively, her fingers closed, her thumb rubbing over the thin band. She forced her hand open and slipped it from her. “Fine.” Belle resisted the urge to throw it at him, knowing she needed to keep her calm. She would be seen as spiteful and angry. This would be handled gracefully, she would be better than him.

She held out the ring, unwilling to step forward to hand it to him. He bowed his head when he took it from her. It was immediately slipped into his breast pocket.

“The money. The livestock for ‘our life together’,” she shook her head when he still refused to look at her, “It was the dowry, wasn’t it?”

“I am regretful to say—”

“Don’t lie to me,” Belle said firmly. He would live in the next village over. People would talk again about why she was left, why she was an unfit bride. “Did you think about your fiancée at all when you did this?”

“Belle,” he sighed and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I needed to do what I could.”

Angrily, she shoved his hand away, “You need to go.”

“Please—”

“What’s going on here?”

Gaston spun at sudden voice in the open door way, “Your Majesty?” he exclaimed, eyes wide. Belle turned to see William staring at Gaston’s hand on her shoulder.

“Aye. I believe the lady asked you to leave.”

Belle could see his response on his lips, ‘she’s not a lady’ but Gaston thought better of it and nodded. “Of course, your highness.” He ducked his head again and hurried out, bowing as he passed by the king.

Unmoving, William watched Gaston go. There was a look on his face Belle had never seen. Anger and disgust and…jealousy? He leaned outside and beckoned to someone unseen. Not a few seconds later, Eric entered through the door, his arms full of different greens.

When William turned to her, the strange look remained. “Was that him?”

“It was,” she answered, watching Eric so she wouldn’t have to meet William’s gaze as he came close to her.

“He seems pleasant.”

“He’s not.” There was an edge to her voice she couldn’t control as she fingered her bare finger again. William didn’t notice and went to help Eric unload his batch.

“How is your father, Miss Belle?” Eric asked.

“Improving,” she said, forcing herself to take on a civil tone. Eric was a good man, so was William. And they were doing something she should be grateful for. Even so, she couldn’t push aside her anger to feel the level of gratitude she knew she should.

They didn’t speak again while they laid the food down, and when Eric was finished, he left without waiting to be dismissed.

“Are you alright?” William asked, meaning to be comforting, though it only made Belle feel more bitter.

“Yes,” she responded with a curt nod. She was acting childish and knew her anger wasn’t meant to be aimed at him, so when he took her hand, she sighed and squeezed him back. “Thank you. For helping.”

When he kissed her hand, she smiled as genuinely as she could. “I have something I mean to discuss with you.”

“About?”

“Would you sit?” he asked, turning to the chair before the fire.

“No. I’d like to stand.”

“Very well,” William leaned on his cane as he circled nervously around the chair. He was nervous. Belle’s heart beat quicker with anticipation of what he might say to her. Did he no longer want her? He’d found a new wife. Like Gaston. Though if that be the case, she’d have no right to be angry. After all, to the world, they were engaged in nothing but friendship.

“What is it?” He paused in front of her and when he took her hand again, she pulled it from him. “Just tell me.”

“I’m in need of a new mistress,” he said quickly.

“And you want my blessing? I already told you to—”

“That isn’t what I’m asking.” Belle stayed quiet, giving him a chance to explain himself. “I am asking you.”

“Asking me what?”

“Belle,” he leaned his head to one side as if he thought she might be mocking him. But he shook his head, “I’m asking you to be my mistress.”

Her immediate response was to laugh, but he did not appear to be joking. “And…my father? Just leave him?”

“No, he would be taken care of. A doctor would be sent—”

“Oh so he could die alone. With a stranger to take care of him?” Did William think this through at all? Gaston had failed to think of her, William was failing to think of her. It was outraging. Belle was tired of men trying to make decisions for her. They used her for whatever purpose they saw fit. Gaston needed a betrothed while he courted another. William needed a mistress to satisfy his bed. Belle had no commitment to William and she would not let him dictate her life.

He had no right to ask of her anything—to ask her to leave her dying father! How could he ask such a thing from her?

“Then we’d bring him with you.”

“No!” Belle’s voice burst from her, startling William with the volume. “He can’t be moved and my father needs me here.”

“There’s no need to get angry,” he said, his eyes narrowing. She could tell her mood was beginning to rub off on him.

“My father is dying and you want me to fill your bed. I will be angry all I like.”

“He was dying well before now and you had no problem filling my bed. Was it not you who needed to be satisfied last night?” He bent forward to look her in the eyes. “If he had died last night? While you alone in my room were pleasuring yourself?”

Belle felt her ears burn, her face flushing. There was a smug look on his face and it infuriated her. He was enjoying this! Belle felt no thrill at yelling at him, but he smiled as he might at a child throwing a tantrum. “Last night he was fine. There was no—” Belle stopped her protest, feeling even more like a child stamping her foot to defend a pointless argument.

His eyebrows were still raised at her, listening with mock interest. “And if Regina had attacked?” Belle spit out and he immediately straightened up. She knew if she kept pushing, this would more than likely result very badly.

But at that damned smirk was gone.

“How do you spend your time dealing with that threat, your highness? You lie with me, you sulk when your son is better than you. You sit on your ass all day, looking at maps and pictures and draw circles in the ground and what have you done about it? Nothing!” William stood, watching her. His jaw was clenched and his eyes narrowed as she spoke. Belle knew she should stop speaking, stop insulting her king, but her mouth was open and there was no closing it. “You say you don’t need history to remember you and they won’t.”

“You need to watch your tongue, girl,” he said through gritted teeth. He stepped up to her and if she hadn’t been so angry, she would have worried he might strike her.

But she met his eyes, squaring her shoulders. “You’re insignificant and it’s your own fault,”

His face was close to hers and he wore an expression she should have been afraid of. Anger. Pure anger. She’d never seen him look so. He leaned even further down, the skin on his knuckles were white from gripping the head of his cane.

“I think I should go,” he said quietly, his voice tight. His breath came fast and she could feel the heat of it on her face. William bit his bottom lip tightly.

“Yes, I think you’re right.”

Belle kept his gaze until he turned from her and when he had finally gone, she walked around the kitchen. Her hands were still clenched into fists and her heart was pounding worse than it had when William stood before her.

Anger would make it impossible to sleep, but she was exhausted. When she finally stood still, she hung her head, yawning. A dull ache had developed behind her eyes and the longer she walked around the little room, the worse it got. Thoughts of William still pricked at her, but she made her way to the room, certain she would be able to sleep when she lie down.

For a few hours, she slept soundly. It was a restful sleep with dreams of her mother and father entertaining her. She didn’t dream much of her mother, but when she did, she awoke happy. That day was no different.

Even when she remembered her ring was gone, she smiled easily at her father. Though, when he asked who had come to the house, she sighed.

“It was Gaston.”

“I was wondering where he got off to. Brought good news, I hope?”

Belle’s throat tightened. She should tell her father the truth as she always had. There had never been a time when she’d lied to her father as much as she was right now. But she knew what his reaction would he. He would get so upset, insist he find her another husband. His health wouldn’t take that much strain.

So she nodded, hiding her left hand under her right, “He did.”

“Good,” her father closed his eyes again, not asking what news Gaston had brought, “The medicine makes me tired.”

“Then you should sleep.”

Slowly, he nodded as if he already were drifting out of consciousness.

***

William’s doctor was right. The medicine was working wonders on Belle’s father. Within a week, he was able to stand from his bed. Another week and he had come out of his room to sit by the fire.

Belle heard nothing from William. He didn’t summon her and she didn’t go to him. The food he’d brought was dwindling though. There was still bread and a bit of meat left, but her father’s appetite had returned along with his strength. She tried to eat as little as possible, to let her father have his fill. Still, Belle knew that they would soon find themselves at the brink of starvation. Again.

A few times, he inquired after Gaston. Belle hated herself for lying to him over and over. It was harder the more she told him. The truth was right on her lips, but when she spoke, it was never the truth that came out.

Emma’s reply came and her anxiety was obvious. The writing was hurried and the ink smeared. Belle wrote back immediately, wanting to calm her. She wondered if she should mention their lacking food, but decided against it. Emma and Jefferson were hardly in any position to help.

She hurried to the door, hoping to catch the messenger again before he was too far. Without looking, she flung the door open and knocked headfirst into whoever was blocking her path. When she stumbled back, she saw Eric, reaching out to steady her.

“Alright, Miss Belle?”

“Oh, yes,” she peered over him, knowing the messenger would be impossible to find now. “Just trying to send a letter.”

“Please, allow me,” he held out his hand for the letter. “I could have it sent this evening.”

“Would you?” Belle smiled as she handed it over to him, “Thank you.” Nodding, he carefully tucked it away in his pocket. “Um, Eric…what are you doing here?”

“Oh! His majesty sent me.”

“Did he?”

“He’s had a great success against Regina.”

“He did? What happened?”

“Have you not heard?” Eric looked shocked at the news and Belle suddenly felt embarrassed. She should know these things. Everyone would know of such news, especially someone so close to the king.

“I haven’t wanted to leave my father alone yet.”

“Oh, yes! Of course not,” Eric said. “Well, the king was suddenly very adamant about the fight with Regina. He didn’t sleep for days and spent hours working. He left with his army a few night ago, ambushing Regina’s army en route. They’ve just arrived back. Victorious.”

“Good for him.” She knew why William had sent Eric. She wasn’t going to give it to him. Yes, she knew that it had been a bit of a foolish fight. That did not mean neither of them had not meant what was said. His words had stuck her. Her father did not deserve to be abandoned.

“He asked me to bring you to him. I don’t think he wanted me to notice, but his knee seemed to be bothering him more than usual.” The way he spoke made Belle pause. Had William told Eric about them? Perhaps she was only being paranoid, her own fears making herself in other’s eyes.

“Well, tell him I must apologize. I can’t leave my father, but he should still have some of my lotion to keep him for a while,” Belle stepped back in through the door, Eric barely able to hide his surprise at her refusal. Belle could hardly believe it either. William may have been cowardly, but he’d proved he would not harm her. There were plenty of times any other man would have raised a hand to her, their last meeting becoming painfully clear. He’d never taken them.

“Give him my congratulations.”


	10. Chapter 10

“What?!”

“She…isn’t coming, your highness…” Eric bowed his head, wincing as if he thought William might strike him. It was a very real possibility. He would have thought Belle would have been over this by now. But it appeared she was not.

“Did—stand up, damnit!” William ordered and Eric hesitantly rose from his knee. “Did she give a reason as to why?”

“She, uh, said she could not leave her father.”

“No, of course now,” His teeth clamped together, angrily. “Get out. Go!”

Eric nodded eagerly and hurried to the door, but William stopped him. There was little doubt he would regret this in the morning, Belle had told him herself this was what he should do. He even took a bit of pleasure in ordering this. If Belle would not come to his bed, that was no worry to him. He was king and therefore could have his bed filled when he wished.

“Bring me Mercedes,” he snapped and once Eric had left, he sunk onto the mattress. The harder he tried not to think of Belle, the more her image clawed its way back into his mind. When his mistress finally arrived, he all but jumped to his feet.

She dipped into a low curtsy and William watched her, almost dreading the thought of bedding her. So when she started to undress he stopped her. “There’s no need for that. On your knees.”

Her hands at her breast stopped and she lowered her eyes as she lowered herself. Stepping forward, he placed a hand on her shoulder and untied the knot at his trousers with the other. He was nowhere near ready, but he guided her face toward him and when her mouth slipped tightly around him, he felt himself responding. He sighed, partially from relief but also from pleasure.

His fingers gripped her hair, which hung free of any decoration. When he pulled her forward, she gave a small sound, but continued to pull him into her mouth. The wetness around him, the pressure of her sucking, her fingers on his hips, quickly had him fully erect.

There was a lack of passion there. His body felt hot, but he knew there was barely any connection to this girl kneeling before him. It could have been his own hand around him.

Though, it was better than his own hand. This girl—not Belle by any stretch of the imagination—knew what she was doing. When he moved his hips forward, she followed pulling away so as not to gag herself. Her tongue flicked at the head of him and when she used her teeth, it was a light graze to send shivers through his back. William had thought if he had her this way, he would be sure to enjoy her.

He pulsed into her, almost wishing he’d pushed her away before he could climax. But she licked him clean and pulled back from him to sit on her heels. She rubbed at her lips and looked up at him.

“Go,” he ordered. William felt desperately unsatisfied—disappointed that he’d even called for her. She had done nothing and though he’d just spilled his seed seconds ago, he could have been hard again with just a thought. There was a tightness in his stomach, but it made him feel loose at the same time. His limbs felt heavy and it irritated him.

This was Belle’s fault. As he lay down in the bed, he flexed his fingers a few times. If only Belle had come to him. He needed her. That damn woman had insulted him more than he had and he hadn’t held a grudge. 

His hand had already found its way underneath the covers. When he’d dressed for bed, he’d chosen the lightest night shirt he had and when he pulled it up, he barely noticed how it bunched around his hips. His eyes fluttered closed when his fingers circled him as he remembered when Belle had grabbed him in such a way.

Her first time that night and, with only a little guidance, she’d brought his release. The memory of it was starting to fade from him, but he had other images of Belle which could replace that. Rolling to his side, he rearranged his grip, closing his fingers more tightly.

This was already better than before. His chest was trembling under his chin and he could barely catch his breath. Her eyes. Belle was beautiful, but her eyes had been the first thing he’d noticed. There were women with blue eyes, but hers were different. They even shined at night and he could see them as he lay there. He grit his teeth and, finally with a grimace, his body faltered and surged out.

William sighed, relaxing into his bed. The blankets around him were snug and a little damp from where his body’s release. He could have changed, but finally letting himself go had made him drained. Exhaustion was quickly pulling at him and he fell asleep with his hand still between his legs.

The next morning, William awoke on his own. It was early in the morning and though he tried to sleep again, he only lay awake and wrapped in the sheets. When he couldn’t lay there anymore, he rolled from the bed. The covers were stickier than he remembered and he called for new linens immediately when he sat for breakfast.

Bay joined him soon after and for the first time in months, they spoke of other matters than politics. It wasn’t very lively conversation—William and Bay never had much in common. But they could agree in matters of history and education.

“I was thinking,” Bay said, slowly taking a bite of his egg, “that perhaps we should celebrate our victory.”

“No.” William sighed, setting his spoon down,.

“Listen! It would be a great—”

“No, Bay. We’re not doing this.”

“Father, do you have any idea what day it is?”

“It’s Thursday,” William said, but Bay raise an eyebrow at him.

“It is also November twentieth.” Bay arranged the dishes in front of him indifferently.

“No,” said William firmly, perhaps with even more resolve now. “I told you last year. I will say it again this year.”

“Father, the entire kingdom will be celebrating your birthday.”

“Then let them celebrate it,” William pushed back from the table, abandoning his breakfast in favor of leaving this conversation. The only way to stop Bay from talking of this would be to walk away, but his son followed him.

“Papa! This—” he rushed to stop William from opening the door by slamming himself against it. William sighed, tapping his cane impatiently, “People need to know that you care.”

“I do care! I showed them I cared by winning the goddamn fight with Regina!”

“I—I don’t think you’re understanding,” Bay spoke urgently and sighed theatrically when William rolled his eyes. “People aren’t going to listen—respect a king who never interacts with his people.”

Raising his eyebrows, Bay slowly stepped away from the door. William knew his son was right. Kings were meant to be king. Not just in title.

“Fine. When?” he asked, knowing Bay would already have a date chosen.

“Tomorrow,” said Bay with a smug grin.

“What!”

“Your birthday is in two days. This way you can enjoy your actual birthday in peace.”

That made him smile. When William clapped him on the back, his son beamed at him. Still, when William reached for the door, Bay stopped him. “Where are you going?”

“If you must know, I’m going to talk to Belle.”

“Ah, is she talking to you now?”

“No,” William said, gritting his teeth. “She’s not.”

Leaning back against the door, Bay folded his arms and smirked at him. “I’m not stupid. Change your stories all you like. She’s your friend, she works for you. Whatever. But you like her. More than you did Mama.”

“Do I?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“You never apologized to Mama,” Bay pointed out smugly.

“You’re very presumptuous to say I’m going to be apologizing,” William reached for the door, but Bay stood firm, still looking very smug.

“It is what you’re doing?”

Sighing, William gestured at the door, “Might you let me through?”

“Have you ever considered asking her? To come here?”

“We’re not having this conversation, boy,” he snapped.

“I am just saying that if she were here, there would be no need for…stories.”

“She’s engaged. And her father’s sick.” William forced his arm past Bay to the doorknob. He gave a small chuckle and William edged him out of the way as he opened the door, but he stopped in the doorway.

Turning, he pointed at Bay, “You’ll keep your mouth shut.”

“About your peasant servant friend?”

“I’m serious.”

“I will,” he said, lowering his eyes. 

The coachman was unprepared for William when he called and instead of waiting while the carriage was prepared, he ordered a single horse to be brought. Horseback riding wasn’t the greatest for his leg, but he wanted to make sure that he didn’t back down from this.

William had been rehearsing this for a few days now. If everything went well, everything would be back to how it was. But, of course, he wasn’t good at predicting Belle’s reactions.

Bay was right. William didn’t have much experience with apologizing. His wife had never cared enough to be angered by him and he never necessarily cared if she was.

Though he wasn’t nervous—he could take it if Belle yelled at him again, he could yell back at her easily—he felt… impatient. If he didn’t apologize, Belle could be angry at him forever. She could never forgive him. Being with her was worth a little humility.

It wasn’t just in his bed where he missed her. He missed the fact that he could see her. Long days where he was forced to be with boring, tedious people were unbearable. He wanted to come to his room and be with someone pleasant. Pleasant people were difficult to find. William was going to make sure that he would keep the few he had.

There was a moment’s wait after he’d knocked on the door. He waited and listened for any kind of sound within, but there was nothing. But he knocked again and the door opened immediately.

“Your highness,” Belle said, smiling.

“Belle,” he nodded, “Are you going to invite your king inside?”

She took a breath, but allowed him entrance, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to ask if you would come to a party tomorrow night.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because I also came to apologize.”

Belle folded her arms as she looked at the ground, “Oh.”

“So, I’m sorry,” William said and shifted his weight when she only continued to stare downward. “Belle, are you going to forgive me?”

“I—” Nodding, she looked up and smiled, hurrying to take his hand. “Yes.” William smiled when she squeezed his fingers, “I’m not mad. I was…having a bad day.”

“So you’ll come?”

“…Perhaps…My father…”

“Yes, has he improved at all?”

Looking relieved, Belle smiled even wider. “He has. But I don’t want to be too hasty. It’s only been a short while and…”

“What if I were to have my doctor stay with him tonight?” William asked. He knew he sounded desperate and weak, but he didn’t think he could handle an entire night with his son’s acquaintances without Belle there. Luckily, she wasn’t offended, but when she smiled it still looked as if she would refuse. “It is also my birthday.”

Her expression chanced at that and she squinted at him, “Is it?”

“It is. And I would like not to spend my birthday with people I hate.”

“Do I get to ask how old you are?”

William gave the least awkward laugh he could, but it still came out very uncomfortable. He should have known that she would ask if he mentioned it. “Uh, you could try.”

“I could always try asking your son,” said Belle as she raised an eyebrow. “He would tell me.”

“Yes, and your father would tell me exactly how old you are,” he countered and he saw her jaw tighten only the tiniest. It was enough, though, to keep her from actually inquiring.

“You said tomorrow?”

“I did.” Hesitantly, unsure if a kiss would be welcome, he bent down to her. Belle tilted her head to meet him and smiled when he pulled back.

“I’ll be there,” she told him, kissing him lightly again.

William closed his eyes and leaned into her. She was still smiling against his lips, but he kept her hand on his chest, wanting to stay for as long as he could. Could he go another night alone? Another night with only his hand for company now that she had forgiven him? He opened his mouth against hers and she giggled when he tried to slip his tongue through her teeth.

“Not here!” she exclaimed quietly, pushing him away.

“Why not?”

“Because my father is awake,” she whispered, still giggling.

Immediately, he released her. The door behind them was even open. Frantically, he went over the last few minutes, trying desperately to remember if he’d said anything that he might have been ashamed of. “Ah, good. It’s good he’s better.”

“Would you like to meet him?”

“Oh…I would rather—” but Belle was already pulling him toward the door. They reached the doorway, and she leaned in.

“Papa, the king’s come to see you,” she said and pulled him inside.

The man huffed, “I doubt he’s come all this way to see me. All the same, it’s an honor your highness.”

“Mr. Frenier,” William said with a small bow. “It’s good to see you’re recovering.”

“Belle says it was thanks to you.”

“My doctor, really.”

The door shut behind him. And although he already knew Belle had gone, he spun to look at it as if the thing itself had betrayed him.

“Come,” he said, patting the bed beside him, “Sit.”

Stiffly, William limped to the side of the bed and sat in the chair next to him. The man lying before him must have only been a few years older than himself. He looked drastically older, but a hard life and disease added age. He sat rigidly until the man spoke again.

“I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for Belle,” he said. His eyes were tired and when he smiled, there was little emotion behind it.

“Well, I reward good service.”

“She said she was your friend…”

“…she is,” William said, hoping he would not dwell on this subject. The man just nodded, blinking a few times.

“I must ask you one more favor, if it is not too much to ask?”

“No, of course it’s not. I shall try and do what you ask.”

“The medicine…I can feel the effects…draining.”

“That isn’t supposed to happen. My doctor. I can—” William made to stand, but the man in the bed grabbed him by the arm. With his eyes closed, he shook his head.

“No. Just please. Listen.”

The way William half stood and half sat in the chair made his leg shake and he collapsed back into the fraying cushion.

“Promise that, after I go, you will take care of her.” He breathed heavily a few times, but William stayed silent, allowing the man to speak more. “It’s only a matter of time before I die…and I need to know that she won’t go hungry. Servant or not. Promise you will treat her as your friend.”

Swallowing, William nodded, “Of course. She—you needn’t worry about her.”

“Thank you, son,” he said, reaching over to tap William’s knee. It had been years since William had been called ‘son’. The sound of it was strange, but fitting, he supposed. It must be what Belle’s father called all of her…suitors? William smiled at the aspect of being her suitor, but it could be the correct term for him. He was not courting Belle, but their relationship had developed into something much more than mere friendship. Or even more than simply bedmates. He missed her when she was gone. Though he liked their activities in bed, he would be content only to lie next to her.

If anything, this was how he’d expected marriage to be. Love, even.

No. That was not right. Love was not what they had. William stood immediately, seeing that Belle’s father had fallen asleep. She waited in the small kitchen for him and beamed when he emerged.

“I’m sorry I left,” she said, taking his hand. “He was asking me to meet with you.”

“That’s alright. He’s, uh, sleeping now.”

“What did he say?”

“He…thanked me.” It was not a complete lie. He had thanked William, but the rest was not something he wanted to share with Belle in fear it would anger her. She was already adamant that she did not need to be taken care of. Had her circumstances been different, he was sure that she was right. But he’d promised her father he would take care of her, not that he would tell her about it.

Belle slowly wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed a kiss to his chest. “I should thank you more.” She kissed him again, moving up his neck. “Perhaps tomorrow night?”

William laughed, feeling a bit breathless as her lips moved past his collar to his neck. “I—” Belle pulled away from him and he gulped down what he was about to say. It felt lovely having Belle back, but he wouldn’t admit to her how much he’d missed her. So he kissed her again, “I’ll send the coach for you a bit early. At six. I’ll have a dress for you.”

“Alright.” She smiled again at him and he went for one last kiss.

“Tomorrow, then,” he said, releasing her.

***

Bay tried to get William excited for the party, but he was determined to be as unpleasant as he could. Eventually, his son left him and William was left to read on his own. It had been months since he’d read anything he’d actually wanted to. He found himself thinking how Belle would enjoy it.

The though drew his gaze away from the pages to the bed sitting in the corner. He bit his lip, looking away before his mind went to how the night would be spent. He only had to get through the party and he could have the entire night with Belle. Perhaps she would even stay for a morning.

William put the book down and, glancing at the clock, stepped into the hallway. It would be a few minutes until Belle to arrived, but he wanted to make sure the dress he’d ordered would be ready. He paid the delivery girl a silver to stay and dress Belle.

He was tempted to stay and watch once she’d arrived, but he was shooed, rather forcefully, from the room. As he left, Belle gave him a smile before turning to look at the dress. He hoped that she would like it. Picking out a woman’s clothing was not his greatest strength, but he knew what would flatter her. Seeing her in something other than her usual shabby dresses would be a welcome change. She deserved much nicer clothing—nicer everything—and this was the one occasion she would allow it from him.

By the time the first guests arrived, Belle was still locked in the room. William called for Eric to escort her to the dining hall when she’d finished. Bay was already there shaking hands and bowing to the ladies.

“Ah, here’s my father now,” Bay announced, straightening. He was speaking to Lord Phillip, duke of William’s northern coast. His daughter, Amelia, stood next to him craning her neck to look around the ballroom.

“Phillip,” William said, shaking the man’s hand. He was a big man, even taller than Bay, and he was just as sour as William himself. Out of all the people here tonight, William found him to be the least annoyance.

“Your majesty,” he bowed and turned to his daughter. “You remember my daughter, Amelia.”

“Of course,” William said, taking her hand to kiss it. “You look lovely, milady.”

She smiled, shyly tucking a strand of her bright red hair behind her ear. “Thank you, your highness.”

“Your manners have improved,” Bay murmured once the two of them had moved on into the room.

“I consider that man my friend.” William gripped his cane in front of him and watched the door. “Of course I’ll be polite to his daughter.”

“The one man more horribly isolated than you. I should have guessed. And where is your other friend?” Bay asked, looking expressionlessly around the room as the guests started dancing.

“She’s dressing.”

“Oh, good. You had the sense to get her a dress.”

“Of course. I’m not stupid, Bay.”

“Ah,” Bay exclaimed, hitting William’s shoulder. He was looking at the door and William nudged him back as Belle came into the room. She looked uncertain as she stood just outside the doorway, but when she found William she smiled. It would be improper for her to come to him first, so instantly, he rushed to her.

He was excited to see her, more than he should have been. Tonight would be the night, he told himself. That was why. Belle would finally fill his bed tonight and he was anxious to have those private moments where he could keep her to himself. When he approached her, he bowed a little more formally than was needed.

She curtsied, “Thank you for the dress.”

“You like it?”

“Of course. It’s the nicest thing I’ve ever worn.”

Instead of saying the first thing that came to his mind—of saying how beautiful she looked—he cleared his throat and looked into the room, “Are you going to find someone to dance with before dinner?”

Belle was quiet and when he looked, she was smiling at him with raised eyebrows. He shook his head, “No. I am not a dancer.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

“You should dance,” he suggested, looking back to the room.

“And what makes you think that I am a dancer?”

“I could order you to dance and enjoy yourself,” he said, glancing at her to make sure he hadn’t offended her.

She grinned at him, “You certainly could try.”

“Everyone!” Bay called out to the room. He’d made his way to the front and had stopped the orchestra. “Dinner will be served through there.” He pointed through a large set of doors and when William saw the wine glass in his hand, he sighed.

“Already started drinking, I see.” He looked around to see the room emptying. No one else seemed to have noticed his son’s odd behavior and seemed engrossed in their own conversation. They gave him no look either, and seemed not even to notice Belle at all as they pushed around the two of them.

“Well, it is a party. Shall we go to dinner?”

“Ah,” he caught her by the arm as she started going, and pulled her back. “Come with me.”

“Come with you where?”

“I must see you in private,” he said, pulling her closely, still receiving no looks from the few people still in the room.

“Really?”

“The dress is lovely on you.”

“And dinner?”

“We can eat later,” he said simply and pulled on her arm again until she followed with a quiet laugh.

“You don’t think they’ll miss you,” Belle said, looking back at the room.

“Perhaps,” he shrugged, but they were far enough from the room now and he tugged her to the wall against him. His stomach tightened when she welcomed him, but it was only for a second.

“Not here,” she said, laughing quietly.

“Uh,” he forced himself away, looking at the open door they’d just come through. They were still too close to the party and he sighed, “Okay, this way.”

There was a door not too far down the hallway. It was perfect and when he looked, he saw it was the smaller kitchen. It had been abandoned for the party in favor of the larger. “Private enough?”

“I suppose,” said Belle, but she nodded and allowed him to wrap his arms around her. Already, she was against the butcher block, hoisting herself onto it to better reach him. William was careful not to grip her hair too tightly; they would still have to be seen afterward.

The dress was difficult and he almost regretted letting her dress in it. It was too stiff, too restricting and he could barely feel her shape beneath it. Belle didn’t give him time to resent it; she was pulling him back to her, roughly enough that he braced his hands on the countertop or they would have toppled over. There was a clatter as his cane dropped from his fingers to the floor.

Belle held on with her legs and he was met with waves of fabric. Irritated, he grunted, delving to find where he could touch her. She nipped with her teeth at his jaw. It was distracting as he tried to discover where he could unfasten her skirt. In her other dresses, William had no trouble undressing her. The frustration was making it damned near impossible to enjoy the fact that Belle was eagerly kissing him again.

“Back here,” she breathed, leaning into him to guide his hands to her back. For a second he felt around, but eventually, he felt a small clasp and three buttons beneath that. By pure luck, they were all undone the first try. He gave a triumphant laugh as he pulled it from her shoulders and she pushed her hips up to allow him to slide it from her. He gripped her around her hips, sliding her forward to enjoy how he could finally feel her wrap around him.

For just a moment, he rubbed at her ribs. The dress had been so stiff there, but her skin was soft, even beneath the cotton he could feel how soft. She took his hand and guided them upward, till they found her breasts. William smiled as he kissed her, gently curling his fingers around her. He liked them beneath his palm, but he was hesitant to grab at her.

The first time he’d ever seen her, he’d touched her so intimately. She’d lain bared to him, and he’d stroked between her legs. But it had been on her father’s will. And though he did enjoy touching there, her breasts were still hers. He’d touched them before when they’d been close. Now, they’d barely been together for the night. She was on the block and he still fully dressed.

Still, her hand covered his and she bit her lip when he squeezed her. He lowered himself over her, pulling the neckline of her camisole to expose her. Belle sighed as his lips closed around her. Her fingers slipped into his hair, holding him in place as he teased and sucked at her.

When he looked up at her, she was panting with her head thrown back. William pushed himself away from her breast, replacing his mouth with his hand again, and kissed where she bared her throat. She looked down at him and smiled, breathlessly.

She kissed him again, reaching to fumble with his trousers. Belle smiled when she finally pulled him free and watched as he pulled up her camisole over hips. She leaned into him, fully taking him into herself.

This was what he’d been waiting for. The moment when he finally met her body with his and the rest of her clung to him. Her ankles hooked around him, her arms grabbed his hips, and everything in her held onto him or else she would have fallen to the counter.

Belle wrapped around him, pressing his hips to hers with so much strength he almost couldn’t move. But he rolled his hips, loosening her hold just enough to allow friction to start building.

“What was that?” she asked, her fingers in his hair stilled and she turned away from his lips.

“Hm? Nothing,” he said into her neck as he continued to move into her. It was easier, but she was distracted now and he wanted her attention. He released her thigh to rub a finger into her folds. She whimpered, clenching around him for an excruciating second.

When he tried to kiss her again, she still looked away, “It sounded like people speaking.”

“The party,” he said, trying again with his finger. Belle winced again, but continued to look over his shoulder. William could feel he was almost ready. She was so tight around him, despite her distraction. And she was real. He wasn’t alone in his bed, tugging at himself. His arms were wrapped around her, her wet body pulled on him.

“No, someone’s coming.” Belle shook her head, frantically trying to push him away.

He groaned, thrusting forward again. She was right; there were voices outside in the hallway. “One second,” he breathed out, knowing if he pulled from her now, he would spill himself all over the kitchen floor.

“They’re coming,” she said urgently, pushing him from her.

“Damnit,” William exclaimed. His release was fast, leaving part of his seed on her thigh and the rest rushed out on the table. Belle bent to retrieve her clothing as William tried to clean his mess from the table with his sleeve. The table was somewhat wiped down by the time Belle had him by the arm to pull him behind the icebox.

“You think he’s going to be in here?” A voice asked. William recognized it immediately as Eric’s.

Belle crouched next to him, desperately trying to rearrange her clothing to cover herself. In her hands, she held his cane and her stiff dress and they both knew that they were not hidden well at all.

“It’s as good a place as any,” another voice said. It was female and sounded familiar as well.

“I don’t even think he knows where this place is,” Eric laughed.

“Of course he does. A kitchen is a good place to hide,” she said. “I come to the kitchen sometimes to hide.”

“Well, it doesn’t look like he’s here.”

“It does appear that we’re both alone.”

The woman moaned and Belle’s eyes widened. William couldn’t resist, he peeked around the icebox and Belle had to stifle his laugh. Eric had Amelia against the very butcher block William and Belle had used. She kissed him back willingly—happily—as he knotted his hands in her scarlet hair. After a moment, she pushed him away. “We should go.”

“No, everyone’s looking for the king.”

“And they’ll be looking for me next,” she giggled as he kissed her again, licking her bottom lip.

But that was all William was able to see. Belle grabbed his collar and yanked him back, giving him a warning look.

Eric sighed, loudly, “I suppose so.”

“We’ll have more time tonight,” Amelia assured him.

“I hope so.”

There was a long moment of quiet before the door finally opened, then closed behind them. Belle sighed, closing her eyes. He could tell now. She’d been terrified they would have been caught.

Panting, she stood and when she handed William his cane, he caught her hand. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she said while she unbundled her dress. “I just didn’t know what I would do if…”

“It was just Eric.”

“He was a bit preoccupied,” Belle smirked.

“Yes…” William couldn’t help but smile as well. Slowly, he pulled his trousers back into place around his hips while Belle slipped into her dress.

Eric was a good man. William had thought him honest, but after such a show, he knew Eric had been anything but truthful to many people. By the looks of it, it had been for a while too. Such a relationship between a lord’s daughter and a mere soldier would not be tolerated by Phillip.

He was a sneaky little bastard that was for sure. But he could keep a secret. And that could prove to be very useful.


	11. Chapter 11

When they finally allowed themselves to be discovered, it was a maid who found them. He’d brought her to a small sitting room where he knew would be looked in eventually. William had sat in an armchair, placing Belle on the stool with his leg in her lap.

“Your majesty?” The maid asked, timidly stepping into the room.

“Yes?” William had his head leaned back on the cushion and Belle felt bad for the girl, who had to face the king on her own. Though she worked her, Belle wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d never actually spoken to him.

“W-will you be coming to dinner?”

“Belle? Are you hungry?” he asked, with his eyes still closed.

“A bit, yes.”

“Then bring the food in here. I am tired.”

“And the guests?” she asked, looking as if she were preparing for him to yell at her.

William let out a deep sigh. His terrible acting made her smile and she looked down as she rubbed his knee to keep the maid from seeing. “Tell them they may join if they wish. But you may also tell them they are free to leave.”

“Um, yes your highness.”

“I am ready for tonight to be over,” William said once the maid had shut the door.

“It’s your birthday dinner; at least pretend you’re enjoying it.”

“I can’t. I wanted a small family dinner, with you and with Bay. But no, I’m expected to…”

“Socialize?” Belle asked, smiling at his wording. He didn’t even seem to realize he’d said ‘family’ but it stuck with her.

“Be surrounded by people I don’t like.”

“Well,” Belle said, casually running her hand along his thigh, making him lean his head up to look at her, “the night isn’t over yet. And we still have tomorrow.”

That finally made William smile and she pulled her hand back to his knee before she started to stir a response from his body. He reached down, as if he was going to put his hand over hers, but the door opened and Bay rushed in. “Father! What in God’s name are you doing in here?” A small stream of guests trailed in after him, but most seemed to have gone. Of the twenty or so guests that were initially here, only five remained.

“I was tired,” William said, watching as the plates of food were brought in and set on trays on the guests’ lap while they sat on the couches. Belle was silent while the group chatted around her. They asked William questions, forcing him to participate in the conversation. After she’d finished her meal, he propped his leg in her lap again.

She was glad that she had decided to come. She didn’t think that she would ever forgive him, but the moment she’d seen him coming up to her door, she knew how childish she was being. William had done nothing wrong, she’d provoked him. The sting of Gaston’s news had made her lash out and she recognized it immediately. He’d even been gracious enough to apologize and it was more than she could have asked for.

“Belle?” William spoke to her and she realized the room was looking at her, most specifically a girl in blue with red hair.

“I’m sorry?”

“I was just saying that I hadn’t seen you around before.”

“Oh, I…” Belle glanced at William, who said nothing, waiting for her to give the response. “I’m working off a debt.”

“Oh,” the girl said, not appalled by the answer but unsure of how to reply.

“And you brought her here?” a woman at the other end of the room asked William. The woman was draped in jewels, her blonde hair tied up under a studded headband. She stood, taking her goblet with her and stood by the window. She didn’t look out the window, but instead eyed Belle.

“It is my party. I get to decide who comes and who doesn’t.”

“Where did you get the dress?” The woman asked.

“I—”

“I’ve lent it to her. To try and spare her _this_ ,” William pushed himself from the armchair, gesturing for Belle to hand him his cane. “I would like to be left now. _Now_ ,” he added sharply when no one moved.

Only Bay and herself stayed still. The red-haired girl stood, giving her a small smile. William stood beside her and didn’t move until the room was empty of all but the three of them.

Bay sighed, “I think I’m going to go to town. Not quite ready to turn in.”

“Drinking?” William asked. Bay turned, spreading his hands out, and shrugged as he left. “That boy’s going to drink himself to death. But he refuses to give it up.”

“Has he always drunk so much?” Belle hesitated asking, fearing she might have no authority to worry over his son. But William sighed and took her hands as she stood.

“It started when his mother died.”

“They were close?”

“They were.” His eyes didn’t meet hers and she gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. She could see that the subject was unsettling him. The part which distressed him, Belle didn’t know, but she was glad to leave the subject. She tried to distract him with a kiss and, though he smiled at her when she pulled away, he was still lingering in his thoughts.

He was only there for a second longer, before his eyes narrowed. “Now. I believe you said something about tonight…”

“And tomorrow,” Belle added with a little smirk.

“Well. Should we retire then?” William held his hand to her and pulled her close to press his lips to hers lightly.  He was eager to have her and she had to pull away from him as they exited the private room.  Belle walked with her head bowed, intentionally avoiding looking at any one they passed. She didn’t look to where he led her, but she knew it was to his bedroom; they went up the stairs.

The bedroom was dim with the sun going down. There hadn’t been a fire lit in the grate and the air was crisp in the room, but the blankets would be enough to keep her warm until William…would join her in the bed.

Belle sat on the end of the bed and pulled at the covers to untuck them. William stayed on his feet and had started to unbutton his vest.

“I’m sorry about what was said.” He laid the vest on the nearest chair and started on his shirt.

“It’s alright. She seems…like an unpleasant woman.”

“They’re all unpleasant.”

With a sigh, William let his trousers drop to the ground. He stepped out of them toward Belle and ran his thumb over her cheek, “Still. You were my guest. And you deserve to be treated as such.”

“I try not to let people like that get to me.”

“Mm,” he trailed his finger down her neck, “You’re a bigger person than I am.”

The collar of her dress stopped his finger’s trail and he sat down beside her. “You can keep the dress, if you’d like.”

“Oh, thank you…but I should leave it here.”

“Right,” he traced along the lace. “Then you can wear it for the next god awful party my son decides to throw.” 

“Did you not enjoy yourself at all tonight?”

“I’m enjoying myself now,” he said, smirking.

“Well,” Belle turned her back to him, “If I’m going to leave my dress here…no reason to keep wearing it.”

William gave a happy sound of agreement and immediately set to unlacing the back of her dress. While he worked, Belle pulled at the pins and clips in her hair. Belle didn’t mind that she couldn’t take the dress home. She’d never cared much for dresses and finery. It would be a shame, though, that her father hadn’t seen it. He always wanted the best for his children and would have liked to see Belle all dressed up.

At last, William had her dress undone. It had been tight, not unbearably so, but she’d gotten used to breathing shallowly. She took a deep breath, finally able to inhale properly. William continued to tug at the dress and had started to press his lips to her neck. With a bit of effort, she slipped out of her big dress. Her arms were difficult to remove from the tight sleeves, but William helped her to wiggle free.

Belle turned to face him, kissing him while she lifted herself from the bed to allow him to pull the dress from her completely. He kept leaning into her, pushing her back as he kissed her. Had it not been for the bedpost behind her, she would have fallen off the bed entirely.

One hand braced behind herself while the other guided his fingers away from her hips to her breast. He pulled from her to look down at his hand and he kneaded the flesh a few times. Belle liked when he touched her there. She found that it built pleasure more slowly, made her feel closer to him, another place they could touch.

William slipped his hand down her collar and he pulled the neckline down. After looking at her exposed chest a moment, he bent to kiss each breast, and then returned again to take her nipples in his lips. She placed a hand on his head and he immediately looked up. “Is this—”

“No,” she said, giving him a light pull back to her.

His lips enclosed entirely around her and she pushed away from the bed post to reach him better. While he was bowed to her chest, she couldn’t reach his lip, but she wanted to kiss him. The closest she could find was to kiss him at his hairline.

His arms encircled her as he moved to her left breast, yanking at the chemise that had caught beneath her folded knees. Belle adjusted herself about him, straddling his lap as he stripped the rest of her clothing. It wasn’t surprising to find his hard length poking into her.

William still held her chest to him, sucking and licking her until Belle started to tug at his underthings as well. Once he was free he threw the clothing from the bed. Instead of returning to her breasts, he kissed her neck and shoulders, each kiss leading him back to her mouth. He seemed to enjoy denying her lips his. Every time she tried to meet him, he moved just out of her way and kissed her lower. She finally had to physically pull his head back and force him to allow her the kiss. As she suspected, he grinned at her frustration, but deprived her no longer.

The feeling between her legs had started to deepen. The warm, beating feeling that needed to be satisfied. She reached between them, feeling for him and wrapping her fingers around him to make his breath catch. Smiling, she guided herself onto him and he sighed into her mouth.

It took him less than a moment to start moving against her. He ground his feet against the side of the bed and pushed up into her. It was different—pleasant—sitting atop him in such a way. He could get deeper inside her, meet with her completely, the angle allowing him to rub that spot nestled inside her sensitive lips.

William freed his arms from her, reaching behind to grab at the bed post behind her. He pulled himself harder, gaining leverage to meet with her as she sank onto him. It knocked the breath from her and she could only hold him as he continued to thrust into her. He stilled too, forcing air into her lungs. Belle could feel herself on the edge of release, only needing a last bit of force to shatter it. But she couldn’t move. She was glued to him, locked around him, painfully tense.

With a sharp breath in, his hips snapped forward just enough. It was small, a twitch almost, but it burst inside her. Her fingers dug into his back, knowing her nails must be hurting him. Belle bit back a moan, burying her face in his shoulder until William had ridden out his own peak.

They held each other for a moment; both of them were panting and Belle wanted to rest and let her fluttering heartbeats settle. When William released the bedpost, he flopped back onto the bed and let Belle fall on top of him. He barely seemed to notice her weight

“Do you want to sleep?” he asked after a while.

Belle shook her head. She was content here, but she wasn’t tired. Her body was still elated from their activities and she knew she wouldn’t sleep easily until she calmed.

“M’kay,” he muttered and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. He rolled to the side just enough to move Belle to the mattress, while still keeping her legs wrapped around his hips.

It was nice to lay there for a while. Her heartbeat started to slow in her ears and she settled against his chest. “How old are you today?” she chanced as she ran a finger through the grey hair at his temples.

William closed his eyes. It didn’t look like it was done out of annoyance, but he shook his head. “Again?”

“I’m just curious,” she said.

“…Are you cold?” he asked, after taking in a deep breath. Belle hadn’t really thought he would answer her, but she still wished that he would.

“A little.”

William slipped from her, taking the little heat he’d given her with him. Now more than a little cold, she scrambled beneath the blankets. William knelt at the fire place, trying to strike up a fire. The way he looked, crouched there naked, made her smile as she hugged the covers to her chin.

The flame finally caught and William quickly limped back to the bed. He was shivering by the time he delved in beside her and his skin was cool. Belle wrapped herself around him, teeth chattering and rubbed his back. The bed warmed quickly with the two of them in it and, though she had said she didn’t want to sleep, she could not force her eyes to stay open any longer.

Belle awoke early in the morning, early enough that the sky wasn’t even grey at the horizon.  She could have dozed again if she’d let herself—nights with William always left her feeling spent. They’d broken apart during the night and he slept on beside her, looking completely enveloped by sleep. His lips were parted and the air he inhaled went down with a soft gurgling noise.

Smiling, she settled back down into the covers. She’d never heard him snore before, but it made him look so much less intimidating. Belle hadn’t been intimidated by William in a long time, but he looked so much younger—less like royalty and more like a regular person—lying there snoring like he wasn’t just The King.

When she kissed the side of his mouth, he gave no notice of her and she tried again, kissing the hollow of his cheek and then his closed eyelids. He gulped, snapping his mouth closed and silencing his snoring. It wasn’t until she’d started to press her lips to his neck did he show any sign of consciousness.

He gave a small grunt, turning to burrow his face in his pillow. “Again?” he muttered as he wound his hands into her hair.

Pressing one last kiss to his neck, she leaned away to look at him, “Does kissing always have to lead _there_?”

“Suppose not,” he said sleepily. “It’s early. I want sleep on my birthday.” Already, his eyes were closed and he was drifting back into his slumber. Then, his eyes snapped open again. “You’re not sleeping.”

“You can sleep if you want.”

“And you’ll just watch me?” he asked, his eyes fluttering closed again.

“Mm hmm.” Belle reached out to smooth his hair away from his eyes, making his face scrunch up. “You look more like a man when you sleep.”

"I am a man."

The gentle stroking of her finger was lulling him, but she could tell he was not asleep. “You don’t know what they say about you.”

“Hm?”

“You’re the _king_. Some people think you’re a god.”

“And I’m sure my breath is certainly very God-like right now,” he said, turning his head away when she tried to kiss him again. Belle smiled, nesting her head below his chin. William slipped his arms around her, “Well, we both know that I am not a god.” His words were beginning to become clearer as Belle kept him from sleep, but as he stroked her hair and her back, she was the one beginning to drowse.

“Sometimes it’s nice to know that you’re just a man,” she heard herself murmur.

When she woke again, she found herself on her stomach. She could feel William close to her cheek and she unfolded her arm to wrap around his stomach. It was still early and there was barely any light coming into the room. The room was completely silent, William’s breathing made no sound, and Belle could have gone back to sleep if he hadn’t moved to arrange his arms around her.

He held her shoulders with one arm and with his other took her hand, which rested on his chest. “Why are you always waking up before sunrise?” he asked and pressed a kiss to her hair.

“I used to get up earlier during the harvest.”

But today she didn’t have to be awake. She closed her eyes again nestling into William’s chest. When he spoke, she remained still. “Your ring?”

“Hm?”

“Where’s your ring?” William stroked her ring finger—the finger where the ring Gaston had given her used to sit.

“He took it back,” Belle said, slipping her hand away from him.

“He took it back?”

“Probably to give to his new wife.”

“He proposed to someone else?” This upset him. His fist closed around the blankets and his lips pursed into a hard line.

“Married someone else,” Belle rolled away from him, not wanting to speak about Gaston anymore. It still made her angry to think about what he’d done and she didn’t want to feel that right now. She wanted only to be with William. He rolled onto his side, propping himself on his elbow. “He took your money and used it as a dowry.”

“He did _what_?!”

Belle put a hand on his shoulder, not wanting him to become too upset. “I’m not mad at him.”

“You should be.”

“I feel…disappointed.”

“You wanted to marry him?”

“No,” Belle said. And she didn’t. When she’d found out he’d asked for her hand, she had cried late into the night because she did not want to be his wife. But she’d chosen to accept it. “I just didn’t think this was how it would be…I thought I would marry him and _learn_ to love him.”

William laughed, “Marriage is never like that.”

“Did you never have any connection with your wife?”

“No,” William welcomed her with his arm as she rested closer to his side. “We had different ideas about what our marriage should be.”

Belle nodded, knowing that the Queen had already had a lover when she married. “She was already in love…”

“She was. She had no intention of ‘learning to love’ me.”

“But you wanted to love her?” William glanced down at her and she knew she was right. “But she never gave you the chance?”

 “I always assumed that my wife would be the mother of my children and we would share some kind of bond as parents.”

“You thought she would be…? Y-you don’t think Bay’s your son?”

William smiled at her, sadly, “Belle, I laid with my wife twice in our marriage. To consummate. And then eight months before he was born. It’s rare for a child to be conceived after only one night.”

“But he’s still yours,” Belle assured him, rubbing her hand on his chest.

“Of course. I raised him.”

“And you love him,” Belle said, nudging him in the side until he nodded and said it himself.

“Yes. I do. I love him.” His fingers wrapped around her left hand again and he sighed, “Did your fiancé—”

“No, please, I don’t want to talk about him,” Belle said, wrapping an arm around him. His jaw was still clenched, but she kissed him until he relaxed. She pulled back just enough to wish him Happy Birthday. The words put him even more at ease and she allowed him to roll atop her. For a while, they just kissed. Between his legs, he hung limp only gradually stirring as their lips moved together. Even when he had hardened fully, he seemed to be in no hurry and occupied himself with only kissing her, licking her bottom lip, or gently biting her neck.

Finally he pushed himself inside her and moved within her. He filled her pleasantly, but the sleepiness of morning kept her from the height of excitement. She closed her eyes, holding William while he moved against her and enjoying the warm pleasant feeling of him.

He breathed hard against her shoulder and gripped her back. What he was feeling was pleasant, but it seemed like so much work. They were both tired, barely awake, and the strain he put himself under was something Belle would be happy to put off for when she was more alert to enjoy it. She felt him gasp, tugging at her hair while he released within her.

His breath rattled in his throat and when there was a knock on the door, he barely looked up. “What?” he called.

“Father!” Bay’s voice sounded and he gave a louder pound on the door, “Let me in, I have your present.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was a bit short, hopefully all the smut made up for it. And thank you to my lovely sister for beta-ing this time <3


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